Life is Full of Surprises
by shadowkitsune-sama
Summary: Harry's a wanted man. He's been accused of murdering the Dursleys, and no where to be found to prove himself innocent. He's disappeared from the wizarding world! Wait! Is that Harry back at Hogwarts? Harry, that disguise doesn't work. ...it is you, right?
1. The Attack

_A/N: NOTE: I should warn you that there is an OC in this story, for those who hate it. But it is NOT a romance-interest, NOT a self-insert, NOT a mary-sue. In fact, the only reason there's an OC is because the plot needed a witch/wizard (I chose witch in this case) who was not going to Hogwarts and was homeschooled. This, of course, meant no one from the books, and thus needed to be an OC._

* * *

It was a horrible year. Every year was horrible, but this last one was the icing on the cake, cherry on top and all.

_Sirius._ Sirius was gone – and Merlin-damnit, it was all his fault!

What sort of idiot was he, rushing out of the school, leaping on threstles, and dragging a bunch of his friends with him toward danger? Friends who most certainly must have realised he was being ridicules, but were loyal enough to save him from fighting alone on the Light side of this whole stupid war.

Sitting in the car on the way home, Harry couldn't help it as his thoughts spiraled into despair.

Everyone in the Order knew how much Sirius' death affected him, but there was nothing they could do. All they could give him were empty words of condolences, and try to make his life easier by threatening his relatives to take better care of him. The first was useless, and the second … Ha, as if that would change anything in the Dursley household!

Vernon was thoroughly paranoid, but that was nothing new. The poor man, told off by a bunch of freaks couldn't think properly, still worried that they would change him into a toad if he let his guard down. But then again, he was always like that, fearing magic like it was the plague itself.

But, Harry had to admit to himself, the result did make him quirk his lips in mild amusement – better than he'd been since that dreadful … _fall._

By the time they arrived home, the sun was already setting in the east, peaking over the several overly-similar houses down the neighbourhood. Uncle Vernon twitched every step, looking over his shoulder ever couple seconds. In fact, driving home took so long because the man kept missing the exit routes, being as jumpy as he was. Either that, or he was trying to keep the "scary freaks" off his tail. Not that they were actually following, mind you, but Harry wasn't about to tell his Uncle that.

Chores around the house was immediately Harry's duty the moment he stepped foot back into the building. After all, Aunt Petunia couldn't let her precious widdle Duddy-poo do all those tiring tasks when he could be out with Piers helping around the neighbourhood instead! And by helping, Harry meant "bullying little children for fun", but Aunt Petunia was utterly clueless to what her "little" Duddydums was up to.

Either way, a late arrival home meant being sent up to his room without having to cook the family dinner. That was a good thing since Harry didn't think he could focus on any task. He needed to sleep off the events of that year. Another fight, another loss... Only sleep could get his mind off of things.

_That is, if the nightmares didn't get to him._

As the days passed, Harry was certain he could physically see himself wilting like Aunt Petunia's prized roses when she couldn't have her nephew take care of them while he was away at Hogwarts. In other words, quickly and dreadfully. Harry's hands itched to write a missive to the headmaster, begging, pleading him to send him to the Weasleys early. He needed _something_ to distract him from his thoughts, his mourning, his fear, his helplessness. He needed the Weasley's unconditional love to know someone still cared for him. He needed the family's rambunctiousness to keep him from dwelling on what he didn't want to. He needed to stop thinking about Sirius … about his death.

His daily chores did nothing to distract Harry's whirling mind, as they were routine work by now. After fifteen years of doing the same task, he could accomplish them in his sleep without even opening his eyes. As his hands moved on their own, his mind threw itself in loops of that faithful day. His nights were no better as his nightmares after nightmares played out vividly and hauntingly. Dark eyebags already hung around his eyes, showing just how little sleep the boy was getting.

Harry _had_ to go to the Weasleys'; he had to make sure they were still alright. That nothing happened to them just because Ron and Ginny fought with him against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And most importantly, he _had_ to have a distraction from these memories of his. Nothing said distraction more than a rowdy family of nine.

His breaking mind could take no more of this daily mental abuse.

* * *

The night was cloaking over the sky when Harry finally staggered up the stairs at the end of yet another agonising day. The boy was dead tired, but crawling into his bed, he made no attempts to fall asleep. Because once he did, he was vulnerable to a new onslaught of nightmares. But lying awake, in a way, was just as bad.

Harry's mind continued to wander, and even after the struggle to draw away from the topic of Sirius, the next topic he'd landed on was nothing better – and _still_ somehow they managed to swirl back into Sirius in the end.

This was his life, wasn't it? Cursed to never be allowed to be happy – an orphaned boy whose parental figures would be continuously ripped out from his life without fail, never allowed to enjoy anything of James and Lily; dad and mom.

Harry's family life was anything but of a typical family's, no matter how hard he wished for it to come true. He'd once deluded himself in that fantasy, like the naïve kid he'd once been. He'd been so certain that when he grew older, nicer, kinder relatives would find him and pull him into their arms with love, taking him away from the hatred in the Dursley household. Sixteen years passed in Number Four, and nothing happened other than his introduction into the wizarding world.

But that wasn't true. Sirius happened; Sirius happened in his third year, but the foolish kid he was, he'd done nothing about it. He had a chance, but he lost it - and it was all his_ fault_.

Harry curled his legs into his chest, staring out of the window with dark, glassy eyes. A picture of Sirius running up to him and hugging him tightly flashed through his mind quickly. His stomach clenched up, and his eyes started to blur.

Perhaps if he wasn't such an idiot, he could've saved Sirius. After the battle, Harry had reached into his pockets and withdrew a familiar looking hourglass attached to a chain; it must have fallen into his pockets during the battle which shattered all of the Time Room he, Hermione and Neville had been battling in. He'd recognised the right away, and no matter what Hermione had said about the dangers of paradoxes and what not, Harry would've happily ignored her as long as he could save Sirius. But no, because it wasn't exactly _right after_ the battle that Harry had found it, but rather when he was packing his things away for the train ride back to King's Cross. A time-turner could turn back hours, not days. And if Harry hadn't had that stupid self-absorbed hissy fit at the Headmaster, and had been rational, maybe he would've noticed sooner and actually _could_ save Sirius.

Really, it was _all his_ fault.

Harry flung himself over on the bed, face into the covers. He buried his face in the pillows and let his muffled tears run free. Harry slammed his fist into the lumpy mattress. What good was time when it couldn't save Sirius?

The lump that was the time-turner dug into his collarbone where he wore the long chained necklace. It was a useless decoration now, but it served as a reminder for Harry of his own stupidity and temper. If he hadn't been so mad, Harry was certain things would've turned out differently.

…_or would it?_

Harry slammed another fist onto the mattress. Differently? No, that was a dream that would never come true – not for him. He should stop deluding himself.

_He couldn't have a normal life. Everyone who got close to him got hurt, or worse. That was how it always was. _Harry's two fists opened, then tightened onto the material of the mattress as if trying to tear it apart, at the unfairness of the whole world. His breathing was shallow and uneven.

_Why, oh why couldn't he live in peace with his family? Friends? Godfather? What did he have to be the Chosen One? Why did he have to be a wizard? Why did everyone expect him to be strong?_

_Why?_

_Why, why, why, why?!_

He _couldn't_ live up to their expectations. He never could, but no one seemed to realise that! No one cared what he thought, cared what he couldn't do, cared how he really was like under that idealised image everyone seemed to have of him. He wasn't just a name, he was a person too, dammit! Why couldn't anyone see that?!

The boy clutched at his bed covers in despair. No, that wasn't true, there _were _some people who could see that. But all of them, the only people who did were all dead and doomed to die. And their deaths... well, their deaths were all caused by Harry himself, dragging them into fighting this war with him. He hated it. He hated it all.

Drowning in his sorrow and misery, it took a while before Harry eventually fell asleep.

Of course, a horrific nightmare was waiting for him at the end of his slumber. It would have been nice if Harry knew of this, but alas, he didn't. Because honestly, who would've guessed Death Eaters would find Privet Drive so easily?

* * *

**xxx**

**xx**

_**BOOM!**_

Harry opened his eyes, getting up groggily to the noise downstairs. He took a quick glance at his watch and groaned into his pillow. What were the Dursleys doing up at this time? That crash better not be that whale of an Uncle's attempt at sex, or so help him Merlin.

Grabbing his wand from under his pillow where he'd hidden it the moment he ran into his room, Harry tried the door. Vernon had occasional taken to locking his door in an attempt of punishment, but lately, after the Order's threats, the man had been too scared to touch them. It was a good thing since now Harry didn't have to be worried about locked in while the unidentified noises continued to bang around on the ground floor.

Any question of who was down there was nixed the moment the yell of **_Stupefy _**echo through the house. It was Death Eaters, and he knew it. Who else would go around stunning people in their own homes? It sure as hell wasn't a new inventive way to play tag.

Harry took deep breaths as hundreds of questions ran wildly through his brain. The wards on his house, a notification to the order, the safety of his relatives, every thought he had whirled together like smoke from a bonfire. But most importantly, what should he do now?

"I could try attacking if there aren't many of them, but I bet Voldemort would go all out for me. … I need to get my stuff." Harry muttered to himself. Death's cloak seemed like it would be most helpful in this situation.

Harry's grip on his wand tighten as he slowly crept down the stairs to his old cupboard where Uncle Vernon had locked up his trunk. He stood in front of it for a mere second debating whether or not to use magic, before giving in. There were Death Eaters in his house for Merlin's sake. Forget about getting another letter from the Ministry, he wouldn't even get it if he died here! With a quick _Alohomora_, Harry proceeded to grab all he could stuff into his baggy jeans. Harry didn't know what he needed, and short of his invisibility cloak, everything else he took - a pouch of money, scraps of photos, and a handful of questionable WWW products - he didn't have an absolute reason for taking, other than the fact that it fit in his pockets.

As he was doing so, he heard a voice coming closer with each word, echoing from the kitchen. "Hurry up! We're done with Potter's relatives. That brat matters more than them. Come on! You don't want to anger the Dark lord by _your_ foolish behavior, now do you?"

Harry knew that voice in an instance. "Lucius Malfoy." He hissed venomously. Resisting the urge to jump out and attack the man, Harry slid under the couch in the living room, waiting for Malfoy and his goons to pass by. The stairs gave a telltale creak as the Death Eaters scurried upstairs The moment Harry heard them going into the various rooms, he took a deep breath and ran for it.

He scampered into the kitchen where the Death Eaters were last, knowing there would be no one there now, and slipped out of the back door to freedom.

* * *

-Or not quite the glorious freedom Harry was expecting.

Harry really hadn't been expecting much, just the empty lot of his backyard like he knew was there. He'd expected to run through it in a panic haste, slipping over his neighbours' fences onto the street where he could somehow get in contact with Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the Order. But upon seeing the gruesome sight outside in the once smooth green yard, Harry's stomach clenched up as he froze on spot. Out there tied up and stoney cold dead were his relatives Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia.

Harry could feel shivers running up and down his spine. It was no secret Harry disliked his relatives, but seeing them dead in front of his eyes was a different matter. They'd been _Avada Kedavra'__d without remorse, in a war they shouldn't have been involved with in the first place._

At that second, a voice cut through the early morning sky. "WHERE'S THE BRAT?!"

Harry's head snapped up, suddenly realising once again where he was – standing frozen in the backyard while Death Eaters were out for his life. Harry forced himself to snap back into reality and look away from his aunt, uncle and cousin. Supressing his urge to break down crying at yet another three losses only months away from Sirius', Harry tried to focus on his current task, his head whipped back and forth looking for a place to hide.

But hoesntly, the bloody yard was bare. Only a lone shed stood in the back corner, but as Harry swore under his breath, he knew it was better than nothing.

Harry raced in and locked the door behind him. It was a meaningless action, he knew. But what else could he do?

His heavy breathing from the sprint, and the dusty shed did not bond well. It took everything to keep himself from coughing out loud. Harry trashed trough the shed, hoping for something useful to show up. It was like Dudley's own private garbage dump. Everything in here pretty much belonged to Dudley.

The skeleton his parents bought for him on Halloween two years ago was in here. It wasn't made from cheap plastic either; it was expensive. Harry looked further in. Some horribly (and I mean horribly) cute wool sweaters Aunt Marge had bought Dudley was stuffed in as well. To his left, there were some of Dudley's old toys and Christmas presents, and to his right were Dudley's old birthday presents and… Harry groaned. His old glasses. He had gotten into so much trouble when they went missing years back. And to think it was Dudley who had stolen them.

Realizing he was off topic once more (Harry had an inkling this was an automechanism in order to cope with the stress), Harry clenched his fists tightly letting the pain from his fingernails digging into his skins snap himself out of all his useless thoughts. He needed something to get out of here! And as to answer his prayer, something shiny in the corner of the shed caught his eye. He scrambled over to it.

A lighter! And beside, was gasoline for the lawn mower.

Now this was getting somewhere. Harry couldn't help but grin at his luck. Perhaps things were starting to looking up?

* * *

Not a minute later, Harry ran back into the shed huffing from his second sprint. He had just poured gas around the back of the house. Thankfully there were no Death Eaters by the kitchen looking out to see what was going on out there. Now, Harry stood behind the shed, ready to climb the fence as soon as the fire was lit. This, hopefully should be enough to distract the DE so he wouldn't be seen. And even if he _were_ seen, the fire would hopefully buy him more time as they would have to put out the fire before they could race out after him.

The only down side to this whole plan was that the fence was higher than the shed. Once he started climbing, he would be exposed for the world to see, no longer hidden by the shed. Hopefully the fire would be high enough to block the death eater's vision too.

Holding his breath, Harry flicked the lighter. His well thought out plan ran desperately through his mind as he mentally rehearsed it once more. -Or so he tried to. His body stiffened at the spark he got._Wait, where's the flame?_

He flicked it again.

_Nothing! Nothing happened!_

He flicked it again.

_Still nothing._

Harry wanted to cry. Why was this happening? Why now?!

Harry rubbed his head in frustration, as the smell of the gasoline grew stronger and stronger. The Death Eaters would smell it too soon. Maybe they wouldn't know what it was, but that wouldn't stop them from going out to investigate. What could he do?

Harry's head thumped loudly in his chest, each beat hitting him like a punch. He couldn't get caught now! He couldn't! ... There _had_ to be something he could do. Harry viciously flicked the lighter, still getting nothing but feeble sparks. Harry's legs buckled out, forcing him to meet the floor.

_No, no, no, no, no!_

It was hopeless. He wouldn't make it. This destiny, this job to wipe out the Dark Lord ... it just wasn't for him. Someone smarter, stronger was meant for it. Not him. A branch on the floor caught his attention. _Maybe I'll have time to sketch 'RIP' on the ground before they catch me, __Harry_ thought bitterly.

He grasped the stick in his hand before suddenly reminded of something. It was so much like... like... Harry swore. What was wrong with him! Was he a wizard or not? Grabbing the stick and his wand, Harry muttered a spell. The stick caught on fire.

Wasting no time, Harry threw it through the small window of the shed. As it landed on Dudley's junk, flames immediately exploded upwards, and followed the trail of gasoline leading towards the house.

_Success!_

Harry quickly stuffed his wand into his pockets and rushed up the fence. Of course, climbing it was harder than it looked. It took more than a couple minutes - a lot longer than he though, but that was fine.

At least one part of the plan was going well.

**ooo**

**"IT'S POTTER!"**

Or not.

He took a quick glance behind him, and felt the need to slam his head into something. Something hard, preferably. He'd forgotten about the Death Eaters upstairs could look out of the large window in the Master bedroom and get a perfect view of him.

"_Avada keda-"_

Crap! Harry tried to quickened his pace, but something was stuck. He tried harder. _Move! Move already! MOVE_!

It loosened.

As Harry fell to the ground of his neighbour's yard, a bright green light whizzed over his head. A second later, and he would have been dead. Any sort of prayer Harry wanted to mutter was cut short as a second green beam flew over his head, barely missing his hair.

Harry rolled to the side, kicking to his feet. He had to get onto the street. He had to run. – but where? Harry's legs started moving before his mind even though the boy had no idea where he was going. His mind whirled desperately, trying to think straight even as his legs pushed themselves to their limits.

It was only when Harry turned on the street when an idea struck. Mrs. Figg's house, Of course!

He turned towards the old lady's house. She would help him for sure – Mrs. Figg would be able to contact Professor Dumbledore for him. Or really, Harry could settle for _anyone_ as long as they could help him from this predicament.

"GET HIM!" a voice echoed viciously behind him.

Harry clenched his teeth. They'd caught up! Hardly realising what he was doing himself, Harry turned around from his initial destination. Because if Harry was anything, and Hermione would be happy to tell anyone, Harry was a kid with a horribly strong saving-people thing going on, and he really didn't want to bring the trouble to Mrs. Figg. He couldn't let the Death Eaters trailing after him attack Mrs. Figg as well – especially since the poor woman was nothing more than a squib, unable to protect herself.

So, turned around Harry had, running the opposite direction down the street towards the dingy playground Dudley used to chase him to. The playground was a relatively bare place, surrounded by a sort of forest that seemed to stretch on for miles. He had to get somewhere where no muggles were around lest anyone got hurt, and this seemed like a good place.

"_Stupefy!"_

Harry leaped to the right blindly reacting to the sound. He didn't have eyes behind his head, and he could only hope the spell wasn't aimed where he jumped to. Thankfully it wasn't, but grazes and bruises started to form where he'd hazardly scrapped himself as he leaped.

"Damnit, I need to fight back," Harry muttered to himself, hands reaching into his jean pockets.

His hands froze.

He tried again to the same result. _His wand was GONE!_

Curses spun in Harry's head, trying to stop himself from hyperventilating. He was now a defenseless boy without his wand. And where could he have dropped it? He had the wand when he got up in his room when he'd first initially heard the loud shouting from the Death Eaters. He'd unlocked the cupboard with it. He'd lit the branch to fuel the fire with his wand. Then, he'd climbed the fence and started running.

Running didn't cause a wand to drop, or at least it never had before, and even if it did the death eaters would be yelling in victory about it. So the only thing would be ... be ... the fence!

Realisation struck Harry. That's what had him caught! His wand must have gotten caught in the fence; that was why he couldn't move. Harry suddenly groaned. Now what? He truly was defenseless now without any form of weapon. Good thing he didn't go the Mrs. Figg's after all. But even knowing all this, this did nothing to help the situation. There was nothing Harry could do now other than what he was doing now – running and dodging. After all, what could he, one wandless teenager, do when adult wizards outnumbering him, were chasing after him with the intent to kill?

By the time Harry got to the playground, Harry wasted no time rushing into the forest behind the swings, weaving his way through the trees and branches. The Death Eaters followed suit behind him, but Harry was smaller and nimbler than them all, easily increasing the distance between them.

It was after running for what felt like hours, did Harry finally slow to a jog. No sound was behind him, but he had learned from his past foolish mistakes. He took no chances; he started running again. He didn't care that he could only half see, with his eyes heavy and closing. He kept running no matter what; he didn't dare to stop.

Harry suddenly tripped. He fell for the hundredth time that day. He struggled to get up, but his arms buckled, and his legs gave away.

His spirit died in an instant.

_Fine, whatever._He gave up. His legs hurt, and wanted sleep.

He was tired.

He was wandless.

He collapsed, barely able to crawl into a bush to hide just in time.


	2. Where's Harry?

It was a peaceful morning; birds chirping in the distance, owls hooting - ignoring their nocturnal habits. Tranquility was all around.

_"What the bloody hell is this?"_

Let me rephrase that: tranquility was all around for muggles. Wizards and witches all alike had lost theirs as soon as the morning Daily Prophet came delivered.

"Albus, I must speak with Albus, Molly." A distraughted Arthur Weasley paced around the kitchen. "Just look at this bloody rubbish they published on the Daily Prophet!"

"Language, dear."

Mr. Weasley paid no heed to his wife. "I must firecall the headmaster at once!"But, there was no need, as at that moment, a second owl flew in into their little home, and delivered an urgent message. Mr. Weasley untied the letter. "It seems the Order of the Phoenix being summoned to Number Twelve Grimmuald Place at once. Gather the children, Molly. They'll want to come."

But with news as distressing as he had read, the kids didn't need to be called to come together; they were already gather by their father, frantically awaiting updates.

"Come on now, no need to dawdle," Molly ushered her children one by one towards the floo system after her husband. "Ginny, in you go, Fred-… George…" She shook her head slightly confused, "Come one now, one of you. And the other." As the flame flared in their departure, Molly turned towards her youngest son remaining. "Hurry it up, Ronald. Don't keep them waiting." Said boy shook his head. "Don't be stubborn, now, the headmaster is waiting." Ron shook his head again, and pointed to himself. Mrs. Weasley sighed. "What is it Ron?" he pointed again. "Ron, I don't see why you're being so stubborn all of a sudden. What _is_the matter with you?"

He said something wordlessly while pointing to his mouth.

Mrs. Weasley stared at him blankly. "I'm no good at charades," Ron waved his hands up and down furiously. It finally clicked. "Oh," she pointed her wand at him, and uttered _finite_.

Wasting no time, she dropped some floo powder into the fireplace, shouted the Headquarters of the Order, and pushed the remaining child in. "That'll teach you to start swearing so early in the morning, Ronald Bilius Weasley." The flames reached up and surrounded Ron, transporting him to their destination.

"A Silencing spell was unnecessary, you know," Ron muttered to himself, "I reckon everyone in this house was thinking the same thing as well." And of course they were; the new was about Harry, after all, the unofficially adopted Weasley.

* * *

Harry sat up.

Bad idea; his connected with something. He fell down again, clutching his forehead in pain.

"What the- " He opened his eyes. He stopped as the memories of last night's (was it even last night?) events flashed through his mind.

_No, it couldn't be true! _Harry went to denial; it had to been a nightmare. His relatives couldn't be dead. Not because of him.

_Why did everyone he knew die? Why was everyone dead?_

Harry wrapped a scarred arm around his stomach, wanting to curl into a ball. He wanted to die too; he was bad luck to everyone around. The Chosen one? Ha, that was a stupid lie. Harry laid in silence, staring at the sky past the leaves of the bush he was in. Every part of his body stun with pain, but he ignored it; this was nothing compared to all the _deaths_ around him that he'd caused. He was nothing compared to those who gave up their lives protecting him.

_Nothing…_

Harry turned to the side, the scent of dirt filling his nostrils as he did so.

People were dying because of him. What could he do? Harry sighed. People were dying _because of him_,so maybe if he didn't get in touch with anyone, they wouldn't die as well? His list of family and friends were diminishing quickly enough as it was – any little idea seemed like a good one by now.

And so, Harry made up his mind. He refused to leave. No one would ever find him here. No one would ever come into danger ever again. He was going to stay here, _forever_. Nothing was going to make him move. He was going to live here, he was going to die here. This bush was now his.

At least this way he couldn't directly cause another death by his stupid not-so-heroic acts.

* * *

"Wizards, witches! Order!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Attention please!" The chattering stopped. "Thank you. Now I assume you've all read the Prophet?"

The chattering started again.

"Albus, what is the meaning of this?"

"What's going on?"

"What does it mean _'Wanted'_!"

"Is this a bloody hoax by the Minister? I don't find it funny at all!"

"It's a lie! It couldn't have happened!"

"What are you talking about? I haven't read the Prophet yet!"

"What's going on?"

Professor Dumbledore held out his hand. "Now, now, I can't answer all these questions at once." He held out the Daily Prophet in front of him. "I'll read this out loud. I don't suppose all of you have read it yet, no?" He cleared his throat, and turned to the front cover of the Prophet.

**x-x**

_**HARRY POTTER: WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS THREE MUGGLE RELATIVES**_**_  
_**_by: Alexia__Norman_

_Late last night, the Department of Underage Magic was alerted that Mr. Harry Potter had been using magic. Seeing as this was the second warning, they decided to pay Mr. Potter a visit instead of sending him an owl. It a good thing they did go, for when they arrived, Mr. Potter's home had just about been reduced into chars._

_You might all be wondering why Mr. Potter is a suspect in this event. Well for one thing, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had never been there. The Dark Mark was not seen floating about the house. Not to mention, Mr. Potter's body had not been found. His relatives, however, were. They were nearly burnt to ashes along with the house. Also note that the 'Avada Kedavra' had been used on them._

_We have reasons to believe that Mr. Potter tried to fake his death. Not far from his relatives, another body was found along with Mr. Potter's glasses, and some charred clothes. However, this one was a fake. The bones had been tested by a department and proven to be not of Mr. Potter's or any human for that matter. It is an ornament Muggles buy to celebrate Halloween. His wand as well has not been found._

_We believe that after killing his relatives using an Unforgivable Curse, Mr. Potter created this fake skeleton to make it seem as though he had died along with them. After this, he flamed the place to make it harder to recognize that his body had been a fake. And now, Mr. Potter is on the run, thinking he escaped Azkaban._

_If anyone has seen Mr. Harry Potter, please contact the Minister. You will receive a reward for capturing Mr. Potter. Do not forget that he is still armed. His wand was not found at the scene. For further questions, please contact the Minister._

_Mr. Potter will be sent to Azkaban. His death sentence is still being decided on._

**x-x**

The Headmaster folded up the newspaper, placed it down, before looking at his fellow Order members. "Any questions?"

There was a slight pause, and then for the third time that day, the room erupted in chatters. A certain question could be heard over everyone's voices, though.

"_**Where is Harry Potter NOW?**__"_

* * *

Harry expected to stay there forever. He expected that no one could find him. He expected a lot of things. However, as seen by the previous night's events, it just wasn't Harry's day.

No sooner had he thought the idea of being a bush hermit, someone fell _on_ him, knocking the air out of him.

Harry wanted to yell at the person. Harry wanted to push him away. _How could he do this to him? He claimed the place! He refused to be moved! Don't get involved if you don't want to die as well!_

The other person, however, had different plans. He covered Harry's mouth, he pulled Harry down. He 'shush'ed Harry just before a pair of foot walking towards them was heard.

Harry, no matter how mad, complied. He had been in dangerous situations before. This was the least he could do to not put them into danger. Or get them killed. Whichever it was in this case.

No sooner did he hear the stomping fade away did Harry tear the other's hand off his face.

He sat up. This time, his head didn't connect with any branches. He stood up. His head was out of the enormous bush now. He glared at the other figure, stumbling out of the bushes beside him.

It was a girl.

The girl bared a toothy grin at Harry, yanking leaves out of her long black hair. "Thanks for keeping quiet," she said pleasantly, before giving him a critical stare. "Ah, right, my name's Cassandra Ester, nice to meet you." At Harry's non-response, she shrugged and carried on, "Sorry for dragging you down, I had to get away from my teacher. He seems to think that History is _such_an interesting topic." She rolled her eyes, "I mean, really! Who thinks that's fun?" The girl finally paused again to give Harry another chance to talk, but Harry refused to take it, rather preferring letting his pounding head rest. The girl frowned. "Anyways, who are you and what are you doing in my backyard?"

Harry rubbed his eyes, fixing his glasses in place before looking around. "Your backyard?" he parroted unintelligently.

She nodded. "I don't blame you for not knowing," Cassandra placated, "See over there?" She pointed to a spot behind him to his left. "There's a rather large hole in the fence there. People tend to wander in thinking this is still part of the forest."

Harry nodded. That made sense.

"Seriously though," she narrowed her eyes, "What _are_ you doing wandering a forest?" She studied his dirty form. "Are you running away from home?"

"Not really," Harry replied.

Cassandra looked suddenly frantic, "Are you sure? It's – you're not abused are you?" she exclaimed, most likely noticing the bruises and cut marks that littered Harry's skin from the running and falling. "I mean, my teacher's at my house," she continued, pointing over her shoulder, "I'm homeschooled," she explained hastily, "That's why he's there. But anyways, he might know what to do to help… probably? I'm sure it can't be too different from wizar- er," she grimaced and corrected herself, "wizen… law that he knows. …'cause he's like old, so his knowledge is wizen, yeah?"

Harry's head was reeling, but he caught her near mistake all the same. "You're a witch?" he asked.

"… are you a wizard?" Cassandra answered cautiously.

"Yes."

The girl let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I thought I almost messed up on the whole Status of Secrecy thing already." She paused. "But seriously…"

"I'm not abused," Harry said. "The press would have a field day if that ever happened," he muttered to himself.

Cassandra blinked. "The press?" she asked, "What are you, famous?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Yes," he said slowly, wondering how she didn't seem to know him. That _would _explain why she hadn't started drooling all over him in astonishment, as his being seemed to do with half the population. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, inwardly hoping for a mild reaction.

The girl did the unexpected; she skittered away from him, her blue eyes widening in fear. "R-really?" she squeaked. All the grim on his face covered him up, so she couldn't tell before. Harry must have read her thought because he immediately rubbed away the dirt on his face, revealing the famed scar.

Cassandra's back hit a tree as she moved backwards, eyes trained on Harry. "S-s-stay away f-from me," She quavered out. "I-I'll call the M-minister if you d-don't leave. Stay away! I ha-have a wand, and I'm not afraid to u-use it!"

Harry had enough.

The day was too damn hard on him, and any check on his temper severed with a easy, brittle snap.

He exploded, "WHAT THE BLOODY BLEEDING HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! My house- relatives' house was just taken over by f-ing _Death Eater_s! They just killed my sodding relatives! They tried killing me! I lost my wand, and just barely escaped them! Don't _you _go start threatening me as well! What have I ever done, huh? I have had enough of this! Not only am I lost, but now you start talking to me like I'm a _bloody murderer_! I just ran away from bloody Death Eaters, and I want rest." He slammed his fist to the only hard surface he could find – the tree. Splinters stuck to his hand as he pulled away. "FINE! I'll leave! What is it with you! First you're all nice and happy, now your acting like I'm about to kill you! Fine! I didn't want to stay here anyways! To hell with this!"

Harry turned around sharply, heading for the hole in the fence.

A timid voice stopped him. "Is it true?" It was barely a whisper, "Death eaters came?"

"What?" he had to hold himself back from snarling, "What are you talking about? Of course Death eaters came. What the hell are you talking about? Those damn Death eaters are always after me." His voice was still as harsh as before. "What makes you think otherwise?" He gave a pause. Something ticked in his mind. "Wait, it sounds like you know what's going on. It sounds like you _knew about_ the attack."

He stalked towards the girl slowly, suspicion in his eye.

Cassandra gulped, but held her ground. She tried to sound casual, but it was a losing battle to her fear. "S-so you haven't read today's Daily Prophet, have you?"

"I've just been run out of my house yesterday. I've been trying to hide from bloody Death Eaters. Of course I had time to sit down and read the Prophet. Hell, I've even had time to drink some tea, and eat some freshly baked crumpets," Harry snapped sarcastically. "_What the hell do you think?__"_

Cassandra shoved her hands into her pockets.

Harry tensed. She wanted a fight? She wouldn't dare attack someone without a wand, would she? When she lifted her hand, she had not a wand, but the addition of today's Daily Prophet. She handed it over to Harry.

"Here. My mom says I trust people too much, but you'd better not be lying. Don't forget, Mr. Eson, my teacher, is still here," she said, forcing her voice to sound as flippant as possible, "I'll _scream._ And you don't want to know who high a girl can scream."

Harry accepted the newspaper. "I'm not lying." With that, he flipped the paper open.

* * *

"_Where is Harry _**_NOW_**_?_" He asked again.

Albus shook his head. "I'm sorry, Remus, he cannot be found. Neither Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, nor myself have been contacted as of yet. We can only wait, and hope for the best."

At that moment, the doors of the room flew opened. All wands pointed at the direction of the slam.

Albus smiled. "Ah, Severus, perfect timing. What news do you have for us?"

Severus Snape took a seat, his face impassive despite Mr. Potter being missing, and the fact that several wands were pointed at his face. "Albus, the Dark Lord has the boy's wand."

There was a collective gasp.

"Death Eaters were sent to capture the boy, but they failed. So now the Dark Lord has devised a plan to make the wizarding world think of Potter as the enemy, instead. He wants everyone against Potter in hopes of an easier win against the boy." He looked over at Professor Dumbledore, "That, or make the boy think he has no true friends, and convince him to join the Dark side."

"And Harry? What has happened to him?" The Headmaster's clear blue eyes caught Severus's onyx ones. He was certain Harry would not betray his friends, no matter the situation.

"He has escaped. The Dark Lord is sending more death eaters to look for him. However, he thinks that it is unnecessary seeing, as Potter has a price on his head. Once the brat is found and handed to the Minister, the Dark Lord will go over there and kill him himself." There was no emotion in the Potion Master's voice.

The Headmaster nodded. "Thank you, Severus. Now we know what has happened, we must plan a way to clear Harry's name, and a way to locate him. My only fear now is that he does not know of the price he is worth, and goes out into the open."

There was a silence as they all prayed for the best.

* * *

It was after her lessons that Cassadra slowly made her way back to the boy in her yard. She'd nervously watched Mr. Eson floo out of her home, leaving herself alone and helpless (well, not helpless exactly considering she had her wand and Potter didn't, or so he said). She's tried to sound brave the whole conversation with Potter once she knew who he was, but inside, she had been truly scared. Honestly, at this moment, all she could hope for was that her judgement was right, and Harry really wasn't evil.

But that didn't stop her mouth from blabbing away; it was an impulsive thing that spoke before she thought, but Cassandra wouldn't have it any other way because it completely threw the fear from her tone and made her seem more confident than she really was.

"So, how's your read?" Cassandra asked Harry, swatting down in front of him to moment she made it to where the boy was sitting. Her wand was discreetly tucked under her sleeve in case she needed to whip it out quickly.

Harry chucked the Daily Prophet at the floor. "Horrible. I knew the Prophet was rubbish, but this is going too far." He had been fuming with every word he read.

The girl hummed thoughtfully before urging Harry to explain what really happened. The boy complied, and by the end of his tale, Cassandra could feel herself pitying the bad luck of the boy before her. Cassandra tilted her head in thought. "So what do you do now? File a complaint? Get a meeting with the Minister?" she asked curiously.

Harry snorted. "If I know anything, they'll never listen to me. They'll chuck me in jail without another thought. The Minister has been trying to discredit me for as long as I can remember, and now they have to golden opportunity to rid of me forever."

The girl pursed her lips, before staring down at Harry with determination. "So what's the plan, commander?"

Harry froze, his anger dissipating in favour of the confusion. "C-commander?" he repeated.

"Well, yeah. You need to do _something,_ right? At this moment, I'm the only help you'll get. Everyone else thinks you're a murder. You can't do anything by yourself anymore," the girl said as though it made sense.

Harry's mood grew annoyed. "What makes you think I'll need _you_help? What makes you think I'll even take you along for whatever I'm planning?"

Cassandra shrank back at the boy's tone. "W-well, everyone needs a friend in a tough situation," she said softly.

Harry gave a snort. "And do you know what happens to my friends? What happens to those who try to help me?"

"No…"

He leaned in closer to her, voice lowering into hiss, "They get _killed_! Every last one of them, if not, badly injured." Cassandra gulped hard, but didn't say anything. "And you know what else," Harry continued angrily, "They become in the top priority in Voldemort's 'to kill' list along with their family and friends."

Cassandra flinched at You-know-Who's name, but otherwise tried not to react. Because even though Harry was correct with all he said, Cassandra could hear the plead of loneliness underlying his whole speech. Harry was afraid to be alone, and Cassandra knew how that felt. She had always lived in her home, homeschooled while her parent galloped around the globe in a never-ending vacation, leaving her to her own devices. Maybe the need for human contact and a chance of friendship was why she was so eager to believe Harry and to help him with his plight. "Just _try_and make me not help you," Cassandra declared. "What can you do by yourself? You told me already, you _don't_ have a wand, thus you_can't_ do magic. You _can't_ go anywhere without being spotted by a wizard. You _need_ all the help you can get."

Harry glared at her, but looked thoughtful. She was right; he couldn't do much himself – not while he was a wanted man. But would he really want to go as far as getting this girl into danger just to help himself? He had enough of people dropping dead in front of him while he could only stand there and watch. If only he could get a wand and do magic without the Department of Underage Magic being reported. If only he could train without anyone being any wiser.

Casandra seemed to have picked up Harry's train of thought. "You know," she started, hesitantly at first, but her words slowly built in confidence, "I'll be willing to let you use my house. I live by myself, and my teacher comes from eight to one from Monday to Friday to teach me magic. We don't have house elves, just a squib maid that comes every Saturday to clean up the unused rooms a bit and check up on me. The house has been spelled so that I am allowed to use magic despite being under aged. ...well, actually, only from the start of my lesson until an hour and half after so that I can practice spells on my own without being given so much freedom that I'll be tempted to do something illegal," she admitted.

"Illegal like this?"

"Like this," she confirmed. "I have a knack for doing the unwanted no matter the restrictions." She paused. "I say I have teenage abandonment issues because my parents are always away and travelling and they stick me with maids and strict home-tutors all my life. But that's just me," Cassandra joked to lighten the mood.

Harry didn't laugh. He instead, rolled the idea through his mind. "So, even _I_ would be able to practice magic in your house, and no one would know?"

"Yes." There was also an alarm system set up that Cassandra was able to operate at a moment's notice should she ever be in trouble, but she wasn't stupid enough to give _that_ away. "I want to help you," Cassandra said sincerely, "Please? You can have a spare room to stay in at my house. All I ask for is that you let me help, and tell me everything that's going on. I don't want to see anyone suffering for something they didn't do." The girl quirked her lips, "And heck, maybe you could even learn something from listening in to Mr. Eson's lectures."

Harry though hard. Was it worth it?

He didn't like the conditions very much (hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't get anyone involved in his affairs ever again?), however, if he _did_ agree, it gave him a place to stay. Not to mention, he would also be able to practice to defend himself and others from Voldemort. He _could_use the help; he hadn't really concentrated too hard on classes last year. It was pretty much luck he'd past them that time around, with the constant dangers that hindered his education every year.

Harry spoke up. "Alright, I accept your terms," he said reluctantly. It was for the wizarding world's best interest, right? Besides, he'd have plenty of chances trying to change her mind about helping him in the battle against Voldemort, and Harry was sure he'd manage before the year was over... _hopefully_.

* * *

Weeks past. Soon, a month pasted as well.

Harry and Cassandra were reasonably good friends by now. She'd begun to trust the other teenager in her home, finally getting rid of the lock that she had transfigured onto the guest room she housed Harry in for the nights.

It had been a few weeks in did Cassandra figure it wouldn't be much harm to get Harry a new wand. After Harry had nixed her idea of a Disillusionment Charm, Harry had fixed the problem himself by whipping out his invisibility cloak which he had stuffed in his pockets from a while back. The various nick-nacks he'd stowed away in his baggy jeans the night of his relative's murder were little compared to everything he'd had in the cupboard under the stairs, but thankfully everything he'd taken with him had stayed with him - Harry was afraid they might've fallen out during his escape, but they hadn't.

In Diagon Alley, Harry was surprised with his meeting with Ollivander. How did the old man know he was in the shop?

Perhaps it was the old man's glassy eye stares that Harry always swore they could see into a person's soul, but Ollivander listened when Harry told him he was innocent. And even more surprisingly, Ollivander promised he wouldn't tell anyone Harry had been to his store, before making Harry a new wand. Ollivander was a weird old man, but Harry always felt he could trust him. Besides, where else could he get a new wand from?

The wand didn't feel as perfect as his first one, but it worked fine. It was better than none. Even so, Harry couldn't help but pout at the idea of losing his first one.

Harry rolled his wand in his hand. Mahogany, eleven inches, with unicorn hair. "At least the length is same," he thought sadly, missing his first wand.

And so, with a new wand in hand, Harry had been practicing every day, hoping to get stronger. Stronger than last year. Strong enough to save everyone he had let down. His mind was set on it, and he had no intention of letting go of that plan.

**x-x**

It wasn't until two weeks from starting a new semester at Hogwarts did Harry ask the question he had been avoiding. The question, he still didn't have an answer to.

"How am I going to get into Hogwarts?"

"Don't go."

The Boy-Who-Lived froze momentarily at Cassandra's blunt statement. "What, you'll miss me, here all alone in your little ol' house?" he drawled into a mocking voice.

Cassandra gave a snort at his tone, "In case you forgot, you're a criminal. What do you think's going to happen if they catch you?"

Harry glared at her. What did she think he had been working so hard for? "What? So you want me to abandon my friends for my own life?" he snarled.

The raven-haired girl gritted her teeth, refusing to give the other boy the satisfaction of an argument. "Look, let _me_ go. You're my friend too, believe or not." He rolled his eyes at that. "Do you think I would like it if _you_ got arrested?"

Harry didn't care about clearing his name. He knew there was no way. The Minister hated him; they would never believe him. He _had _to get back to Hogwarts, though. All his friends were there. If _he_ wasn't, how would he be able to protect them? His hard work would have been useless. "Do you think _I_ would like it if _you_ got hurt?" he shot back. "I thought we were _friends_."

Cassandra bit her lip. When he put it _that_ way... "That's not- I-." She sighed in defeat, "Neither of us wants to see the other in trouble. And you know, the more people working towards the same goal, the easier it'll be," she suggested.

Harry stared at her a moment longer, trying to figure her out, as he considered her words thoughtfully. "But either way," he began again, "How am I going to get into Hogwarts?"

"Go with your cloak on."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure, I'll send a year at Hogwarts with my invisibility cloak on. I'll be eating, opening doors, learning, going to the loo, with my cloak on. I'll be Hogwarts first invisible ghost, wouldn't that be fun?" He muttered sarcastically.

"Alright, I admit, that wasn't a very good idea. At least I had one! What's your damn bright idea, Harry?" she snapped back.

He ignored her in favour of his own thoughts. "If only I wasn't Harry Potter. I could create a whole new person. No one would know… but then again, who comes in during sixth year? People will want a reason … Besides, what if I get hit with a _Finite Incantatem_? A Polyjuice Potion will last too short, and I'm no good with charms …"

Casandra studied Harry. "Have you tried to do things muggle-wise?" She grabbed his glasses. "You know, contacts and such? Magic won't detect it at all, and most wizards tend not to know about them."

Harry nodded slowly, "Yeah, that would work." The boy paused, "However, they'll suspect me anyways. They'll never believe guys who just appear out of no where, with no background info! Especially when just a couple months before, Harry Potter disappeared. -they'll never believe it. Besides, the whole school will probably be suspecting any sixth-year bloke who tries to get into Hogwarts, knowing my attachment to that place. I'll have no chance!"

"And that's why I suggested _I_ go," Cassandra said slyly, "They might not suspect a girl."

Harry stared at her, a deadpanned expression on his face, knowing she knew perfectly well what he though of that plan without even speaking out loud. Harry' eyes washed over her long black hair, a plan suddenly creeping into his mind. Harry suddenly grabbed Cassandra's shoulders. "Wait, you're around my height, right?"

Casandra looked uncertain at Harry's sudden change of mood. "Yeah…" she started hesitantly, "Actually, I pretty much exactly your height and size. Why, do you want to wear my clothes or something-"

Harry cut her off, "You gave me a brilliant idea. And heck, you'll probably agree with the plan, seeing as you'll be helping me like you've been so eager to do. You and your girly-est dresses."

Casandra raised an eyebrow, before growing irritated when the boy didn't elaborate. "Hey, don't make a plan by yourself. Especially if I'm involved - me and my precious dresses! What do you have planned?"

Harry sighed at her demanding tone but complied with a short "Fine." With that they huddled into a circle, and Harry whispered his plan into her ear. As they separated a couple minutes later, Harry added, "Don't forget to mention it to your teacher."

Casandra nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!" She studied Harry for a moment. "You'd better be a damn good actor, or else people _will _start to figure out," she told him seriously, a touch of concern in her voice.

Harry gave a calming smile before he mocked a cocky attitude. "I'm the best there is," he said, channeling Malfoy with every word.

Cassandra shook her head. "No, _I_ am, but fine, fine, whatever you say," she giggled, rolling her eyes. There were so much confusing and misleading madness in Harry's plan that Cassandra wouldn't wait. My, this was going to be _fun!_

* * *

A/N:_Eh, I rushed a bit at the end. Didn't know how to end it. And do I have to remind you I really have no intention of any pairings what so ever?_


	3. Infamous Harry Luck

Nervousness was in the air – at least that's what they hoped they smelt. Eleven-year-olds from all around England stood in the Grand Hall waiting for their names to be called. Long last, after eleven years of normalcy, they would start their super-awesome-magic training as first years, including mindless wand waving and potion destroying – or so they heard!

Not only did the nervous aura surround these first years, but also four teens behind the Grand doors as well. These teens were not eleven, but in fact thirteen, sixteen, and seventeen instead. They, unlike the newbies, had already mastered the art of magic mishaps that would surely upset the professors.

But never mind that.

What are they doing behind the Grand doors, you ask? Well, these four were the new transfer students. Now (yes, yes, Hermione, we know), its been stated on _Hogwart: A History _that Hogwarts rarely accepted students living outside England unless an emergency; so why were they starting now?

It's simple, really; these students weren't from outside, but instead homeschooled children wishing to learn in a public facility. It was actually a suggestion from one of the Headmaster's acquaintance for these students to be given a chance to learn in a different manner than usual.

Now, these students stand outside the Grand Hall waiting to be called in, and step into the wonders of a place they've only heard of in stories; a place of horrifying unsanitary and torture. A place called a _public school_.

**o-o**

"This is boring," droned the only blond of the group.

The youngest girl, being fifteen, but tall enough to be standing at equal heights as the two sixteen-year-olds in their group of four, didn't acknowledge him favouring a crouching position on the floor, smittering the butterflies building up in her stomach. Her raven-haired bangs covered her blue eyes as an attempt to stay hidden in her own little world.

The oldest boy, seventeen, also ignored the blond, feeling much too mature and important to socialize with little boys. He flipped his semi-long black hair showing how important he felt he was.

The so-called "little boy", sixteen, turned to the last person in the group, hoping for a conversation. He raised his hand expecting it to be shook. "The name's Daniel. Daniel Ester - Pureblood." He added as if that made all a difference. His eyes challenged her to think otherwise.

The girl beside him, also sixteen, timidly took his hand, not before glancing oddly at it at first, as if fearing touching him would make her disappear. "Pleasure," she said, before nervously looking back at the doors of the Great Hall.

"You name?"

The girl's head snapped up, eyes sliding towards the other members of the group before answering. "Oh, my name's Ha-" she broke off, eyes fluttering rapidly across the group once more, as if trying to determine if anyone heard her.

The blond's eyebrows shot up. "Hey," he snapped his fingers in front the girl to get her attention, "Ha, is it?" His green-grey eyes bore on her face. "Am I supposed to believe that?" He glanced over at the other two as if trying to get an approval nod out of them.

She shook her head furiously, "No, no, no! Sorry, I was distracted for a minute! I was just… you know, thinking about stuff. Like… you know, my name's kinda different, and not many people tend to pronounce it properly, and I was just thinking if you'd laugh at it like everyone else does…"

"Uh-huh." Daniel's voice held doubt.

Any further discussion was avoided as a lady pushed open the Grand doors and beckoned them in. As they followed behind, a sigh was heard in the group, not unnoticed. Daniel looked over. "Strike one; you're doing a horrible job of pretend." he called out loudly.

She dropped her head looking embarrassed, eyes peaking from below her bangs trying to see if his exclamation was loud enough for the whole Grand Hall to hear. She had a feeling it was, but maybe she was just being paranoid?

* * *

"Welcome, one and all; welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster." The school grew silent as his speech began. "This year, we have a special treat. Not only do we have new first years joining our ever-growing family, but also these four new students!" he waved his hand over the four as Professor McGongall led them in. "Please welcome them warmly, for this is their first time in such a school as ours. If I'm not mistaken, all of you have been homeschooled up until this point, correct?"

He received affirmative nods.

"Excellent then! Upon special request from a dear college of mine, I have considered about accepting any previously homeschooled student regardless of their level of education, as to provide them with experience in socializing in such a grand number of students! Alas, only four applied. I do believe the application was easy enough; all homeschooled students received a letter to fill out if they wanted to, and send back via owl. I suppose they're all much more comfortable continuing their homeschooled education. Nevertheless, let us get along together, and fulfill my dear college, Arnold Eson's brilliant idea!"

Applaud erupted through the school

"Now, let us begin the sorting yet again!"

Professor McGongall went up to the stool the sorting hat sat on, and pulled out the new student list. "Cathy Zackary." As the hat shouted out_ GRIFFINDOR_, clapping from the red table welcomed the fifteen year old enthusiastically.

"Hasvyne Evarson"

Daniel hummed beside her just as she started up, capturing her attention. She looked back. "You know, Hasvyne is unique, but it's not something anyone would be able to laugh about; it's not funny, Ms. Liar," he said, referring back to their previous conversation, "Right?" he said, nudging the seventeen year old beside him in a laugh. He frowned when the other boy continued to ignore him. "Humph, anyways, you need a list of better excuses if you're trying to pretend to be someone you're not."

"It's not an excuse!"

Hasvyne plopped down on the seat and jammed the hat down on her head, ignoring the sudden quite in the school. She brushed her black hair out of her face.

_No need to be so hasty, _the hat spoke in her head. Hasvyne could hear the sudden surprise in the hat's tone when it continued to sort through her mind. _Well, well, what do we have here? _

"A surprise," She answered honestly as she glanced out at the crowd in front of her that had suddenly hushed at the sight of her. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" she asked hopefully.

_Of course not, who do you think I am?_ The hat answered indignantly, _I don't disclose secrets of the minds I have seen, especially if they are only trying to do good, like yourself. But we're getting off track. L__et's see now… ah, of course you're most suitable for… GRIFFINDOR!_

At the shout, Hasvyne jumped off the stool and proceed to the right side of the school.

"Hey, sit here."

She looked over and complied; they were the first ones to open up a space for her to sit down in. "Hello," she greeted the two who beckoned her. The one on her right, with fiery red hair looked at her with wonder. The other, with bushy brown hair merely looked at her with suspicion.

"What are you doing like that, Harry? You're not fooling anyone!" the female one her left exclaimed in a low voice.

Hasvyne shook her head. "Sorry, but my name's Hasvyne, not Harry. You can call me Hassy, however."

"Oh, stop it, you can't fool anyone. There're very little people in this world with the black hair, green eyes combo. And I highly doubt there are two in the same year, same school."

"Harry … Harry …" the girl tapped her lips thoughtfully as in the background she dimly heard the name 'Theodore Dorret' be called and sorted into Ravenclaw. "Oh, you mean the The-boy-who-lived, now a wanted man? Fuck, don't call me Harry! Are you saying I look like a murderer? I don't know what's wrong with you people, but I'm sure glad I was homeschooled; Merlin help me if I start accusing people I just meet to be murderers! You didn't even tell me your names!"

"You know who I am! Hermione Granger! Seriously, I'm saying this for your own good, Har - _Hassy_," Hermione corrected herself at her glare, "We all recognize you! The least you could do was change your hair colour! You really don't know how to be discreet, do you?"

Hasvyne gave a huff. "You know what, Hermione? Until you stop accusing me to be your local murderer, I'll stop talking to you. I'm sorry I look so much like him, but do you really think I want to? I mean, who'd want to look like a killer while trying to make friends. Good day." With a jerk she looked the other way.

"Oh, what's your name?" she asked as she noticed the boy on her right gapping at her.

"Ron."

"I see." With that, she turned back to the front as the boy, Daniel, already sorted, walked towards the Slytherin table without bearing a glance her way. Her eyes followed the boy as he shook hands with another blond at the table, making themselves look more superior than they really were. With a slight conversation, the two looked over her way, sharing a sneer and a knowing look.

Hasvyne pursed her lips together. Wasn't it just great, already four people were indiscreetly showing their suspicions about her. Just imagine all those who were doing it discreetly! Things were getting better and better, weren't they?

As the food appeared on the table, Hassy stuffed her face, hoping to avoid conversing with anyone.

**o-o**

"Now, my dear children, just a few words before you all go to bed," the Headmaster stood up behind the teacher's table, "As you all can clearly see to my left, our dear Professor Lupin has come again to teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts once again. Now, now," the Headmaster interrupted as rejection sounded, majority from the house furthest to the left, "I'm sure some of you will not accept it, but can you deny the results Professor Lupin provided his previous year of teaching? I believe his class received the highest OWLS and NEWTS as opposed to most of the other teachers."

"He's a bloody werewolf!"

Professor looked over at the speaker. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, Professor Lupin can't help what he is. And besides that, he is the kindest man I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You shouldn't judge someone so blindly. And with that, I shall let you all proceed to your common rooms. Remember, no magic in the halls!"

* * *

**In the Headmaster's office...**

"Tell me something I don't know, my old friend."

"I've yet to have lice in me yet."

Albus Dumbledore stared at the hat intently before giving a dejected smile. "That's great to know, but not quite what I meant."

The hat in question gave a grinned on the headmaster's desk where he was placed. The wrinkles of the fabric looked rather like age lines for the old hat. "Albus, I'm not allowed to disclose information on students, you know. It's a much needed feature of student-hat confidentiality the founders spelled on me in order to convince wizards to willingly put me on."

"Yes, yes, I know; but not even if said wizard – or witch – is a suspected murderer on the loose?" He tried his luck.

"Even so."

"Such a person could be a danger to the other students, my friend. Does such a situation not prove the necessity of providing the headmaster with the information in this case?"

"I was created for Hogwarts. Should said student not want to harm Hogwarts herself, then I have nothing to say about it." He nodded to the headmaster, "That particular task is for you to solve, not me."

The old man nodded his thanks and placed the hat back in the shelf behind his desk before sitting down again. He placed his hands gravely in front of his face and contemplated on his next steps solemnly, looking the 140-so years he was.

His thoughts lingered on the four new students, namely the sixteen-year-old girl Hasvyne – or rather who she could be.

He was never one to jump to conclusions, but the chances were quite likely. But then again, Harry was smart enough to stay out of the spotlight, wasn't he? And _that_ really wasn't a smart disguise.

**o-o**

Behind the man, the hat chuckled quietly at the scene before him. After thousands of years of sitting in the same spot and only being moved once a year gave him the ill humour sense he had now. Frankly, what better past-time was there other than watching normally calm headmasters fall into a state of confusion? What else do you think got him through the days?

He'd long gotten tired of pretending of being indifferent of every matter before him.

He chuckled at the conversation he held back from the Headmaster. Oh, it was a brilliant scheme, it was. Of course, if only there were a lot of factors the young Potter had to rely purely on luck with for it to succeed. But then again, luck seemed to always be in the boy's favour. The Sorting Hat wished him all the best.

* * *

Following their prefects up to the common room gave Hassy a chance to awe at the castle before her. Beside, stood Hermione, that annoy girl, reprimanding her whenever she tried to stray off on her own. By the time they were in the common room, Hassy was starting to hate the insufferable nagging presence of the Head Girl, who, trying to be helpful, kept admonishing her and her habits by saying she wasn't being 'girly' enough.

Safely in the Dorm room, away from the rest of the Griffindor, Hasvyne yelled at the girl, without feeling embarrassed about drawing attention.

The girl, Hermione, hissed back, "What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm helping you, Harry, unless you want to get caught and but in Azkaban!"

"Azbakan, Azkaban; to hell with Azkaban! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times; my name is NOT Harry! Geeze." She shed her outer robe, and stood in her uniform, "You think a male would look good in this skirt?" she asked, bewildered, posing for her.

At Hermione's indifferent look, she went on, "And look here," Hasvyne pulled out her plain clothes, "You think if I were a mass-murderer I would have time to go shopping for clothes? And you actually think a guy would be able to pick out clothes as cute as these?"

Hermione looked at the perfectly coordinated outfit and thought back to Harry and his cast-offs. He definitely had no practice in being fashionable.

"And this," Hassy continued, pulling out her lingerie, "You think a guy would dare stroll into a store and actually touch and buy them without blushing?"

"How should I know?"

"Well you're the one accusing me, so get your facts straight first." Hassy huffed, "If that's all, I'd like to sleep!"

She waited until Lavander vacated the washroom, and rushed in next, changing into her nightie – or rather, a long T-shirt and pyjama pants. She blew a raspberry at Hermione before closing her curtain of the newest bed in the dorm and settled in.

She pulled the curtains open once more, "One more thing, Hermy-girl,"

"It's Hermione."

"Whatever. Here's something to ponder about; I know you read _Hogwarts: A History_, so tell me, if I _were_ Harry, how did I get up the girl's dorm room stair? Aren't they charmed for preventing such a thing?"

"It's your absurdly infamous Harry Luck again." Hermione bit back, using it as an excuse until she could find out the answer.

Hasvyne snorted and closed the curtains again.

She too a calming breath as she summed up her day. She got into Hogwarts, got put into Griffindor, met the two, and got them immediately suspicious of her - weren't things going just dandy? And there was that Daniel problem - Harry tried to remember the exact words he'd spoken to her. He was definitely going to be trouble, but Hassy had plenty of practice with gits and bastards, so Daniel couldn't be too hard to handle. Hassy knew he was going to be trouble the minute she wrapped her head around him and his personality. Daniel was going to be a challenge, Hassy thought, running a finger down the chain hung decoratively around her neck in a nervous gesture, but Hassy was always up for a challenge.


	4. And Then There Were Two

A figure slowly crept up the long, spiraling stairs of the owlery. A letter was tightly clutched in their hand. Attaching said letter to an owl, it was shooed off, only for it to make a sharp turn back to Hogwarts itself, where it's recipient sat just outside Hogwart's lake that morning.

The letter was quickly ripped open and read.

_Harry,__  
__How's things on your end? My infiltration was a total success. There was a couple hitches here and there (I honestly never realised a room full of girls could be so loud and nosy!), but that's to be expected, right?_  
_On to my second point; I hope you don't mind if I go overboard on our plan do you? I mean, you've already set up such a reputation, and honestly, when it gets to my turn, I feel like I have to beat you and all. 'cause you know how competitive I am, right? ;)  
So be ready._  
_Cassy_

Back in the owlery, the figure, probably Cassy, quickly ran off, and there remained no clue of a sent letter early that morning. And by the lake, Harry let out a warm breath of air, before standing up and shaking out the dirt from his robes. Well, he'd better get ready to see calamity strike Hogwarts – that girl seemed like she would get the whole school involved with the way she was saying things in that letter.

**o-o**

"Are you sure, Hermione?"

"Of course I'm sure," the girl answered, dragging Ron with her. "There's no other reason why _Hassy_ would wake up so early." The girl stressed the so-called name.

"Maybe she just couldn't sleep," Ron replied, huffing behind her.

Hermione frowned, "_I'm_ usually the first one up. The only reason why Harry got up so early was so 'she' wouldn't need to change with us. I'm sure of it."

There really was no arguing Hermione.

"Let's go."

As the two enter the Great Hall, Hermione immediately honed in onto the lone form sitting on the Gryffindor bench eating by herself. The girl noticeably tensed as Hermione closed in. "Good morning." Hassy greeted, as nonchalantly as possible.

"Indeed."

There was a silence.

"Um, SO-" Hassy continued as the silence began to affect her, "What brings you here, Hermy?"

Ron cleared his throat, "It's Hermione, mate; not Hermy. That's my brother's owl. Her-mi-o-ne." He sounded out each syllable with a grin on his face as though they were just joking around.

Hassy laughed, "Oh, I'm sorry, Her-On-My-Knee."

Hermione glared at her, "You just proved you're Harry with that Viktor Krum joke."

"Viktor Who? Oh, Krum, that broom riding quidditch playing dude, eh? You know him? What does he have to do with your name?"

Hermione snorted, "Quit playing dumb, Harry. Besides, you play quiddich too. Stop pretending like you don't even like the sport."

Ron turned to Hassy, "You know, mate, we could help you if you just admit it."

She laughed, "Admit I like playing quiddich, or admit I'm NOT Potter?"

"Come on, mate!" Ron whined.

Hasvyne glared at him. "I'm not you're mate. I'll never be you're mate until you stop accusing me to be a murderer!"

"Come on, we know you didn't murder your relatives. We've all joked about it, but we know we really wouldn't have done it, and neither would you."

"And I'm not Harry," Hassy said with a smile, "so none of this actually matters to me." She continued eating her food as Hermione and Ron, without her invitation, sat down next to her.

They changed the topic with a "so, what were you doing up so early?" from Hermione.

"Letter. Owl." Hassy said between bites.

"You woke up early just to send a letter? Couldn't it have waited?"

Hassy just shrugged and made a non-committal sound. "I don't question _your_ every move, do I?"

"We're just trying to help you!"

Hassy glared at her, "Help me with what?" She snarled, "Help me take the blame for what your Potter did? Well I sure as hell don't blame myself for not acting so positive about it! If this is your idea on how to make friends I don't envy you at all. Potter this, Potter that." She slammed the table, "Get it in your bloody mind that I. AM. NOT. YOUR. BLOODY. FREAK. OF. A. POTTER."

Hassy let her voice echo through the Great Hall, silencing all the other students eating here. Hassy stood up, "I'm getting to class. Don't bother following; I'm certain I know the way to the dungeons. Down, right?"

**o-o**

Professor Snape looked at his schedule. Sixth year potions was always a disaster waiting to happen. Who in their right mind thought that having students from all four houses together would be anything but chaos? The seventh years were slightly better with their stressing fever for drinking up any and all information they could in order to pass their NEWTS.

To his utter annoyance, three Gryffindors managed to scrap up the necessary marks to be accepted to his advanced class. One was that know-it-all Granger, and another was the so-called Evarson, who, as shouted in the Great Hall that morning, was apparently "not their bloody freak of a Potter."

The "not" Potter had the nerve to stroll in late to his class that day.

"You're late." Professor Snape commented as she unsuccessfully tried to tiptoe in. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. If you actually had a brain cell in here," He tapped his head, "You would've realized that class started five minute ago."

The statement had a failed reaction from the girl. She blinked a long blink before asking, "What is this 'points' you're talking about, sir?" more politely than he had ever heard Potter direct at him.

"Oh, it appears your Head Girl is not doing her job properly." Professor Snape said, hoping to jar a reaction from the girl - or boy, if his prediction was correct.

Hermione bristled under the insult. Evarson, however, looked over at her for a second before she turned back and giggled - yes, _giggled_ - about it. "It seems we're not on the best of terms at this moment, Professor, sir."

"Sit down, Evarson."

With a half curtsy and a "Certainly, sir." The girl scrambled to her seat - one as far away from Granger as possible. A quarrel between friends, he supposed?

As the lesson continued, Snape continually wished the class would end, and as always, it was the damn Gryffindor's fault.

In a way, it was quite horrifying to listen to the amount of _please_'s, _thank-you's_, _I'm terribly sorry's_, and other polite terms coming from Evarson's mouth. What's more, she giggled at every given chance, handled all her equipment daintily, and looked _lovingly_ at him the whole class. Good news to all of this was the improvement in her potions skills.

Either Potter grew that missing half of his brain for social etiquette and potions information (and fruitiness) over the summer, or he, perhaps, maybe wasn't Potter?

If that really _was_ Potter, Snape didn't think he'd actually mind at all if the brat was handed over to the Dark Lord. There was only so much he could handle coming from another fellow man. Let the Dark Lord deal with _this._

There was, of course, a chance this wasn't Potter, but… Snape shook his head; no. Only Potter was as stupid as to come to Hogwarts looking like that.

As the class bell rang at the end of the lesson, he drearily shooed out the kids, wisely ignoring the look of adoration from Hassy.

Out of earshot, the girl smirked, holding in a snort, "Oh, that was so much fun. The look on Snape's face!" Hassy was definitely going to look forward to Potions class this year - she was determined to get the most out of it before she was forced to leave.

* * *

Snape entered his Slytherin's den that night with the intent to welcome the new snakes. Normally, he would've done it earlier, but handling paperwork for the new sixth year Slytherin took longer than he expected.

As he murmured the Head of House's password to the statue guarding the dorms, he was greeted with the sight of the nervous first years, fidgeting in a manner unfitting for his snakes. In the corner of the common room stood the lone sixth year, with a pissed off look in his face at, perhaps, being told to sit in with the firsties.

"I take it the prefects sent word around?"

There was a quite hum of agreement, too timid to speak up. The sixth year merely rolled his eyes in response, and Snape, because of that action, felt a need to punish the boy for his blatant display of disregard of authorities.

-no, actually, that wasn't the reason. Severus Snape, despite what he was known for, cared dearly for his snakes. The boy, in sixth year Slytherin, would undoubtedly come across many with a higher titles than himself. If the boy had the nerve, as he did now, to show such an action towards them, he would've been better off dead. The people Slytherins would come across were deadly and powerful. One wrong move, and you would regret your life forever. And the boy had but two years to learn this lesson before he left the safety of Hogwarts.

"Mr. Ester," the boy looked up at his Professor's voice, "Stay for a while afterwards."

The boy nodded in response, and Snape immediately launched into his speech towards the first years. As he finished and sent off the first years, Ester, wearily approached him.

"Daniel Ester." Professor Snape greeted.

The boy nodded and looked up with eyes filled with caution and challenge. _A challenge._It was his first day as a Slytherin, and he was already getting too full of himself, Snape thought. The boy had yet given him a verbal response, or even acknowledgment of the position Snape held. Purebloods should've been taught social etiquettes from an early age, and yet this boy almost seemed oblivious to them.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" a new voice broke in.

Snape looked beside the transfer student, "Draco. What are you doing here?"

"Well, sir," the boy began, "We all heard the firsties trampling up the stair, but Daniel never came up, so I came to see what was holding him."

"A friend of your?" As the blond nodded, Snape sighed. No wonder Ester was so full of himself; he had a Malfoy as his friend. He turned to the second blond in the group, "I hope you know why I asked you to stay behind?"

The boy hung his head and shrugged. He eyes never left the spot on the door behind Snape. Daniel Ester's manners - or rather lack of - was a rare sight in purebloods. Did the boy's parent _want_ him to have a rough time socializing with other purebloods?

"Look at me, boy." Ester did, focusing all his attention to Snape's nose. "My eyes."

The boys eyes flickered towards his own before quickly lowering once again. "I get it, sir; my conduct was poor. However, it is my policy to only be polite to those I know and respect. I'm sorry sir, but you do not fit that category as of yet."

The boy left without a dismissal from Snape, and the Professor could only stare at his retreating back. Really, did his parents really want the Ester name to fall from the list of high purebloods. Snape gave a pause, were the Esters even purebloods, now that he thought about it? He'd never heard the name before, yet, if he went by what Ester had been telling his fellow Slytherins, he indeed was one.

Draco took his professor's frown of suspicion as one of disapproval. "He's not that bad, sir." He defended his friend, "Quite funny once you get used to him. Plus, he's not as strict and formal as Pansy or Blaise when he's with me. I actually like that."

As Severus left the common room for his own, thoughts swirled in his mind. No, that boy could not be a pureblood. All purebloods were warned of the Malfoy name, and no one would dare to be informal with one.

* * *

"Stop following me around," Hasvyne droned dully, making her way to the Great Hall for lunch, "I'm sure I've said that thirty times everyday, and it's been what, four, five days already."

The days passed by quickly, and Hassy's annoyances never left her.

"We're watching out for you since you clearing can't do it yourself." Hermione bit back from her place beside Hassy, keeping up with the other girl's fast pace.

"I can't watch for _anything_with you following me! Do you know how much focus I have to put on _you two_ just to make sure you guys don't do anything to me when my back's to you?"

"We're your friends; we won't do anything to you!" Ron exclaimed.

"Since when? I'm not your friend. I refuse to be your friend until you can get it through your measly head that I'm NOT Harry Potter." Hassy spun on her heels until she was facing the two. "My name is Hasvyne Evarson, and if you two can't accept me, why should I accept you?" She turned to leave.

"Harry!"

"Hassy!" she yelled back.

"Harry!"

"Are you guys deaf or something? Hassy!" Hasvyne slid into the seat of the Gryffindor table, turning away from her two stalkers immediately. She stuck out her hand and struck up a conversation with the girl beside her to avoid talking with the other two. "Hey, my name's Hassy, nice to meet you. I've been planning to get to know my house-mates, but my two stalkers beside me keep ruining my chances.

The little red-headed girl, raised an eyebrow, but shook Hassy's hand. "I'm Ginny," she said, a hint of skeptical disbelief in her tone.

"So any interesting things going on lately? Don't tell me you're planning to join their cause in trying to get me to admit I'm someone I'm not?" Hassy said amicably. "Don't answer that," Hassy continued when the red-head looked like she was going to complain, "Can't you do a new student a favour and distract them or something?" she asked, pointing over her shoulder at her two stalkers.

"Er…" Ginny looked slightly flustered for a second before her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Hermione. "Oh, Hermione, I need to talk to you." As the bushy-haired girl looked over, Ginny continued, "As Head Girl, can you do something about the new fifth-year girl?"

"The other homeschooled who made it to Gryffindor?" Hermione tapped her lip thoughtfully, "Cathy Zackary, was it?"

"Yeah, her. She keeps skipping classes practically every other day, and Professor McGonagall wanted me to talk to her, but … argh, she's so frustrating. She keeps brushing me off. No wonder she's got no friends!" Ginny rambled.

Hassy took Ginny's interference as a time to sneak off. Hermione, however, immediately swiveled her head towards his discreet movements. "Harry, stop trying to distract me," Hermione hissed under her breath, before turning back to the redhead. "Alright, I'll see if I can talk to her about it, Ginny."

Hasvyne growled. "It's Hassy!"

"No it's not, Har-" Hermione froze at the glare Hassy gave her, before shouting out a "Fine!" There was pause before Hermione finally sighed, "Have it your way." She cleared her throat, defeated. If this was the only way to be able to stay be Harry, then… "My name is Hermione Granger, sixth year, Head Girl. Hasvyne Evarson, welcome to Hogwarts. Would you like to be my friend?"

Ron held out his hand, "Ronald Weasley, what she said."

Hassy smiled, and her eyes softened. Finally. "Pleasure to meet you too. I'm Hasvyne Evarson, home schooled until recently. I hope we'll become best of friends." She took Ron's offered hand. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Ginny rolled her eyes at the cheesy reunion and got up to go to class. Ron grinned at Hassy who was waving goodbye to Ginny, and almost at once, a voice behind him broke up the friendly atmosphere.

"Oho, looks like the children kissed and made up."

They whipped their heads around, and was greeted with the sight of two blonds with two gargoyles like trolls standing behind them, stood at the end of the Gryffindor table beside where they were sitting.

"Potter," one of the blonds spat out.

"Actually," Hassy began, good-naturally, "I'm not -"

"Not our 'Bloody freak of a Potter?'" mocked the other. "I should give you - ah, what was it, oh yes - another _strike,_ because of that. What are we on now, two? Three?"

Hassy immediately leaped out of her seat, and pulled the boy off to the side while her two friends started arguing with the blond Malfoy she had tried to keep peace with. She leaned in towards Daniel, keeping her voice low. "Look, word of advice; stop it with the strike system."

Daniel shrugged, "It seems to be working so far." He said with a smirk on his face.

"You're digging yourself into a hole," she hissed.

Daniel gave another shrug, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Besides, you started it."

"It's not my fault; it was a mistake! Just stop it now."

"It's not _that_ horrible having all your fault pointed out at you, is it?" The blond raise an eyebrow patronizingly.

"I mean it, no joke."

Daniel pursed his lips together and watched as Ron and Hermione came to Hassy's rescue. "Yeah, fine, fine, whatever," he said dismissively.

The three Gryffindors scampered off with Draco yelling 'cowards' at them behind their backs. The blond pureblood turned back to his friends as the Golden Trio disappeared from view. "So what was that about?" he asked.

"Dear Harry – oh, sorry, _Hassy,"_ the boy laughed, "wanted to chat me up," he said with disgusted scrunch of his nose.

Draco joined in the laugher. A moment later, he shook his head, "I knew Potter was a poof, but that wasn't wait I was asking." He pointed to the backs of the retreating three, "I was talking about the strike thing."

Daniel shrugged a bit, "Oh, that. Nothing much," the boy said idly, "Just baseball."

"Base-what?"

Daniel stared at the other boy before realization dawned on him. Damn, it was a muggle thing – Hassy was right; he shouldn't have continued it. Daniel shrugged at Draco, trying to keep calm, "Dunno," he answered, "It was the first word that came to my mind."

"So what is it really, then?" Draco pressed.

"Baseball." The other blond repeated, and Draco couldn't help but shake his head at his friend's antics. Seriously, who makes up random words as answers?

* * *

Later that night, Snape shuffled through his files on his desk, looking for Ester's application form. Something had been bugging him about the form the whole time.

_NAME: ESTER, Daniel__  
__AGE: 16_  
_LEVEL OF EDUCATION PASSED: fifth year material_  
_TEACHER: LAER, Naver O.T._  
_PARENTS: ZACKARY, John and Catherine nee Zackary_  
_ADDRESS: Zackary mansion; 389 Burrate Drive, Dorset, England._

Snape stopped there. Now that he thought about it, he never heard of that street in Dorset. But he could've been wrong. After all, he wasn't one to travel all that much.

But still... Snape frowned to himself. What should he do now? Snape reached for a piece of parchment with an idea on mind, and started a letter inviting Mr and Mrs Ester to the Hogs Head to discuss about their son. Purebloods wouldn't dare ignore letters. They would have to decline it formally.

He took out a second piece to write to Naver O.T. Laer regarding his pupil's education. Snape stared at the name. Something was off about it. Regardless, he continued the letter:

_Dear Mr N.O.T Laer,__  
__I would -_

Snape froze. N.O.T. Laer? His brain unscrambled the word easily. NOT reaL. Ester's teacher was Mr 'Not Real'.

Severus placed his quill down only to pick it up a minute later to complete the letter. Maybe it was just a coincidence? He held out both letters to his own black owl. As the owl swept by, Snape dropped the second letter. No, one was enough. There was no need to send two letters to two possibly imaginary people. And should the parents be real, he could always ask them about the home tutor. He tied the first letter to his owl. "Send this," he told it. He would see then. There was no one delivery owls couldn't find.

The professor's onxy eyes didn't leave the application form as the bird flew off. Just who was this _Daniel __Ester__?_

* * *

_A/N: Someone had too much fun with their application form, eh?_


	5. Confusion's in The Air

Daniel snapped his eyes open, and shivered involuntary when he realized where he was. There was no way he would ever feel comfortable sleeping in the Slytherin dorm room with these guys. –not that he usually even slept in this dorm, but occasionally he did when he was too lazy to run around early in the morning, pretending like wasn't spending his nights elsewhere.

Taking a shower after shooting a quick locking charm at the door - there was no way he would trust them- Daniel got dressed and headed down to the Grand Hall. When he actually was sleeping in the dorm-rooms, Daniel was one of the few people awake at this time in order to keep everyday consistent – and by that he meant consistent in such that none of his dorm-mates ever got the chance to see him in sleeping in, thus whenever anyone woke up to find him missing, they would be conditioned to think he just woke up early as usual.

As he trekked towards his table, he gave a discreet nod to Hassy, who sat on the Gryffindor table. She merely furrowed her brows and gave him a 'don't-talk-to-me' glare.

**o-o**

Remus always dreaded teaching class when he knew the Gryffindors and Slytherins were grouped together. This time, it was the last thing on his mind. In fact, it was torture for it to be scheduled so late in the week.

Remus always dreaded teaching with the full moon so near. This time he actually looked forward to it.

Why? Because there was no better tool than a werewolf's superior sense of smell to determine who was who. If Harry really was in Hogwarts, no matter the disguise - even if the disguise was quite poorly done - Remus would be able to confirm his identity.

As Remus waited for the students to drizzle in, a head of bushy, brown hair caught his attention. Hermione was here. He looked past her. Just as he expected, sandwiched between Hermione and Ron was a messy-haired brunette with bright green. He watched as the three sat by the front rows as they did in his third year DADA class. Just by those actions alone proved she was Harry.

And then the Slytherins arrived.

Draco Malfoy sauntered in with his two bodyguards and friend in tow. The new kid, Daniel Ester, with his dirty-blond hair and murky-green eyes that seemed to be in a perpetual scowl much like Malfoy, strolled in just as pretentious. As if on a cue, they immediately honed onto the Tri, who stood up to argue with them. Some things never changed.

Remus cleared his throat, "Children, sit down, please; class is starting."

The four Slytherins sat behind Hassy, Hermione and Ron. Daniel, sitting directly behind Hassy, took pleasure in kicking the back of her chair.

Remus sighed. Were these really sixth years? They acted like first years if you asked him.

"Alright class, I'm Professor Lupin as you all remember. I want a parchment on the subjects you've covered so far last year in class." He approached Hassy, ignoring the two blonds behind her whispering derogatory remarks about him, "I know some of you have been home-schooled. I'm quite eager to see how differently our lesson plans may differ." The scents of the nearby children filled his nostrils.

Hassy suddenly whipped around, face practically pressing into Daniel sitting behind her as she told him off about insulting the Professor in harsh whispers. The displacement of air she'd created as she'd turned around swirled a gust around her that pulled her scent and the others close to her towards Remus. Remus smiled at his good fortune, and concentrated and … _THERE!_

The werewolf grinned as he turned around and headed back to his desk. He caught it. He would never forget the scent of Harry. And here it was, coming from the direction of the not-so disguised form of Hassy. The man sneaked glances over whenever he could.

The blond sitting directly behind Hassy stared unflinchingly at the professor, as if trying to figure him out.

**o-o**

Ron gave a stretch as he stood up from the desk in the DADA classroom. "Want to see if Remus is free for lunch?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, but Hasvyne looked confused, "Who?"

"Remus - you know, Remus Lupin. Professor Lupin. The fellow who teaches us DADA?"

Hassy's eyes widened, "Oh, so that's his name." Hermione gave an as-if-you-didn't-know cough, which Hassy wisely ignored, "No thank you, I'd rather stay as far away from him as I can. I mean, did you guys notice? He was sneaking glances at me the whole time! I think he's a pedophile or something. Seriously guys, I'd stay away from him as much as possible if there's no other adult around."

She nodded to herself and slipped out the classroom without giving the professor a second glance.

Hermione and Ron gave Remus, apologetic looks as they followed Hassy out the door. Remus, by his desk, choked at Hassy's words.

"Do I really look like that?"

* * *

A few days later, Albus Dumbledore stood in front of his Order members in the old Grimmauld Place. Severus Snape stood beside him.

The old headmaster cleared his throat, and started his speech, "My friends of the Order, it seems we've located Harry Potter." The chatter was quickly stopped with a raised hand, "He is back at Hogwarts, in quite an unusual disguise. It appears we should have had more faith in young Harry's abilities to hide himself. And, perhaps, luck was on his side, for a young lady obliviously gave Harry a chance to come back without being suspected of." The old man looked over at his younger college standing by his side, who nodded. "He is under the guise of Daniel Ester."

Snape thought back to his conversation with the headmaster the night before.

At first he planned to give his suspicions on the young lady, Hasvyne Evarson, but he quickly dismissed it as new ideas formed in his mind. Strictly speaking, he only had one point against the girl, and it was for looking too much like Potter. Thinking it through, he soon realized that said girl was able to enter the female dorm rooms, a room with stairs guarded against the other sex. Those charms, he knew, were next to impossible to break, as he had tried when he was just another student years ago.

No, Evarson was just an unlucky girl caught up in this. His mind threw him to a Daniel Ester living among his snake.

The boy was obviously not the pureblood he claimed to be. His manner screamed obscenity, especially in regards to pureblood customs. After a quick check, his thoughts were confirmed, for there was no Daniel Ester listed as a pureblood, nor any Ester for that matter.

His last conversation with the boy showed that he knew more than he should've about Snape. To avoid his eyes in every conversation showed Daniel's knowledge in Snape's skills in _legilimency_ - something Potter was made aware of just last year.

And the letters. It had been four days, and still, nothing from the so-called parents. His dear owl probably couldn't find the couple. A fake family, a fake lineage, and too much knowledge for someone supposedly new to Hogwarts. No, there was no way he could be new.

Snape's finger itched to cast a _finite_ on his disguise, but after expressing his thoughts to the headmaster, the old man told him to leave it be, and let the boy continue his charades.

The greasy black-haired man watched as Dumbledore briefed and dismissed the Order. "If that is all, Albus?" he asked.

The old man nodded, "Thank you, Severus. I don't know what we could have done without your observations. Keep an eye out for the boy, won't you?"

With a reluctant nod, Severus left the room, gliding around a frantic werewolf rushing in, having missed the entire meeting. Snape shut the door behind him.

**o-o**

"Ah, Professor; sorry, I didn't mean to miss the meeting." Remus exclaimed, still sore from the latest full moon.

The headmaster shook his head, "Do not worry yourself about it, my boy." The man's clear blue eyes twinkled amusedly, "We were just talking about our dear Harry's disguise in Hogwarts." He glanced over at the younger man whose eyes lit up at the sentence. "Ah, you've recognized him as well?"

Remus nodded, thinking of his first DADA class, and the girl, Hasvyne, "Yes sir. I could smell Harry. It doesn't matter what he looks like; the werewolf in me could recognize Harry instantly." He gave a chuckle. "He just walked into my sixth-year DADA class like nothing was wrong, pretending to be one of the homeschooled. I don't know if I should call him smart or foolish."

Albus Dumbledore nodded at his statement, thinking not of the girl, but the young blond Slytherin. "Thank you for confirming our suspicions, Remus. Keep him safe."

The young man nodded and left, hearing the unofficial dismissal from his former headmaster. "Of course I will." He wouldn't let Harry and his flimsy disguise fight alone. He would protect Hasvye Evarson with all his life.

Alone in the room once more, the old man let out a sigh. "Keep safe, Harry. Keep safe."

* * *

Three Gryffindor clambered out of the Grand Hall trying to avoid the students in their way. As always, the Slytherins were the ones to block their paths.

"Push off, Malfoy," Hassy snarled as she dodged out of the way.

"Make me, Potter."

"It's Evarson, in case you haven't heard. Keep that in your mind."

The blond twitch his head, and his two bodyguard appeared by his side. "The only thing that has you labeled as _Evarson_ is the attendance list. If _you_ haven't noticed, everyone else calls you Potter,_"_he drawled.

Hassy raised an eyebrow, "Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Her hand moved towards her wand.

"Both of you, stop it right now." Hermione cut in, "Stop this before it becomes a fight. As Head Girl I refuse to watch as a fight starts to brew."

"Then turn you bushy little head around and stick your beaver face against the wall if you don't want to watch." A second blond, as if it could be anyone else, responded as he walked up to them.

Hassy had to hold up her arms to block her friends, "Ron, Hermione, stop it!"

"Feeling hypocritical, Granger?" Daniel laughed. He looked over at Hassy. "Look, _everyone_ knows you're Potter, and don't think we don't know. If you want, I can start a 'Evarson is Potter' club down in the Slytherin room for you. Just for our little actor." He said with a smile. "Not that I haven't started one with the 'Puffers already."

Hassy glared hatefully at him. "Act? What act? I'm not Potter. So get your boney butt out of my business and stop spreading these stupid rumors around."

Daniel smirked at her. "I can do whatever I want with my _luscious_ boney butt."

"Luscious, my ass. It's boney and stuck up where it doesn't belong."

"And you like it."

Hassy gave a snort, "As much as Malfoy's butt, stick up and all."

As if it were his cue, Malfoy came up beside him, "Oh, Potter, I didn't know you admired my ass so much. Is that why you turned female? All for little ol' me?" He laughed. The goons joined him with their grunt laugh, and Ron looked prepared to punch. An excellent idea if Hassy ever saw one.

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Or what," he crackled, "You'll pronounce your undying love for me once more?"

"I-"

"You didn't deny it!" Daniel laughed, joining in the fun.

"_You_ try denying something when someone continuously cuts you off." Hassy replied dryly.

He rolled his eyes, "Right, Potter."

Hassy's eyes narrowed, "What did I say about calling me Potter," she hissed out angrily.

"Ah, well," he mocked thinking intently, "Who knows. You'll turn yourself in? Did I guess right, _Potter_?"

"_Ester."_

"Huh, you say, something, Potter?" the blond retorted. He grabbed a kid leaving the Grand Hall, "Tell me, does her appearance scream out Potter or Ester?" he asked him, pointing a Hassy, a vicious smirk on his face. The kid rushed off quickly.

Hassy's bright green eyes flashed as she planted her hand on her hips, "Alright, listen up everyone, I'm NOT Harry Potter," she yelled out loud for all the stray students around them to hear.

Hermonie grabbed her around the arm, yanking the girl from her straight posture. "What are you doing?" she hissed in a whisper.

"Telling everyone the truth before those slimy Slytherins start spreading even more rumours," Hassy said harshly.

Hermione only pulled Hassy further away from the blonds. "You're doing this the wrong way!" the girl exclaimed, "You're only making others more suspicious by declaring you're not Potter. It has the opposite effect!"

Sure enough, chattering started building up from the crowd that had gathered around. More than anything, the connection of the words Evarson and Potter cropped up in the negative sense, rather than how Hassy's speech had wanted it to be. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall happened to pass through and dispelled the students with a familiarly scary bark of "What are you children all dawdling in the middle of the hallway? Get to your dorms."

The students all scampered off, and two Slytherin blonds and the Gryffindor group were ready to do the same before the deputy headmistress turned towards them. "What is going on here?" she demanded.

"Nothing, Professor."

The professor glanced at them all before shaking her head. "Very well, but if I catch you all again, you can expect point deductions and detention, understood?"

"Yes ma'm," some of them chorused while others nodded.

"Good," the woman said, before turning towards her Head Girl, "Ms. Granger, I have been planning to talk with you about Ms. Zackary, the homeschooled fifth year Gryffindor."

"Ginny told me about it already," Hermione said, "I've talked with Cathy Zackary, and she told me she would try harder to make it to classes."

"However, she still has not, and she is currently nowhere to be found today."

"Oh, but I was-" As Hermione continued on, Draco and Daniel rushed off the moment McGonagall turned her attention away from them. Daniel spared a glance backwards catching Hassy's eye, who nodded discreetly at him, before catching up with the other blond, leaving the Gryffindors to talk with their Head-of-house alone.

* * *

A couple days earlier a little black owl landed on the window sill of a hut, high up in the mountains of a Canadian region, far west. He pecked at the window, famished from his journey. He tumbled in as a delicate hand opened the window.

"Dear, it appears we've received a letter," The woman who caught the fallen bird cried.

"Who's it from, Cathy-dear?"

She turned the envelope around. "Hogwarts, John." She thought for a second, "Isn't that where our darling suddenly decide to go study?" At his nod, Catherine ripped open the letter and sighed as she read it though. "Ah, your child is such a trouble maker – I bet that's why the professor wants to talk with us."

Her husband laughed. "Why is she always 'my' child whenever there's trouble? Anyways, better send the poor professor a letter back."

"No, let the owl rest a couple days, dear," Catherine said, "It's a long journey from here to London. The poor owl must have been flying two days or more, straight just to get to us. Let him rest. Besides, I don't think the Professor's in a hurry to hear from us anyways."

They placed both the owl and the missive on their study table and left to get the bird food and water. The owl stared at the letter, and saw nothing but unreadable scribbles to his bird brain.

_Dear Mr and Mrs John Ester._

_I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Masters, and Head of the Slytherin house at Hogwart School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am writing in regards to your child, who has been place in my house. He, as our school has been made aware of, has been home schooled for a large portion of life. While at this moment, I don't believe there is a problem, I would like to discuss about your child's learning at, perhaps, the Hogs Head in Hogmeade, should you have the time.__  
__On behalf of Hogwarts and the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, I would like to thank the Esters for choosing Hogwarts as their school for learning. I will be happy to answer any questions you may have._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Severus Snape,__  
__Potions Master, Slytherin Head of House_

It was a couple days later that the couple let the poor owl back outside to deliver their response. Flying back took a couple days more. It took so long to come back, that Snape had already mentioned his theory to Dumbledore and the Order by then.


	6. Nothing But UhOh

Draco wandered the hall that weekend, head down, muttering to himself. "Baseball." He said, testing out the word. Where did Daniel come up with these things? "The base for a ball? A core?" What was with that completely random word?

A voice behind him broke up his train of thought, "Ah, are you interested in muggle studies, Mr. Malfoy?"

The young blond whipped his head around, startled at the voice of the Muggles Studies Professor. Professor Whats-her-face. Draco really couldn't've cared less.

He sneered at the women, "What the hell are you talking about? Who'd want to learn about _them._" He scoffed, "Just who do you think you're talking to?"

The professor looked confused and a bit frightened at him, "But you seemed quite interested in baseball," she continued, nevertheless, "I was planning to cover muggle sports in the next few classes."

"Muggle sports?" Draco numbly repeated back.

"Why yes!" the Professor's eyes seemed to light up at the invitation to talk about it, "The whole team does the work of a beater, but in turns. It's a more organized game than quidditch. And their ball – only a single one - unlike a buldger, is thrown by the other team. If the beater misses it three times – strike three - they're out."

Draco thought back. " _I should give you another strike, because of that. What are we on now, two? Three?" _Daniel's voice echoed through his mind.

The boy spun around, ignoring the Muggles Studies Professor who continued babbling to him. His mind tried to grasp answers he didn't have.

_Why?_ Why did Daniel have muggle knowledge? He was a pureblood like him, wasn't he? They wouldn't dirty themselves by using such vile terms. Daniel wasn't – couldn't be - a filthy mudblood lover. He couldn't! He was his friend. He wouldn't lie… keep secrets…

Draco's mind remembered the day before. He could remember Daniel glancing over his shoulder giving Potter a worried look which disappeared the moment he realised Draco was watching. Was he only pretending to hate Potter?

_What else was Daniel hiding from him?_

Every morning Daniel could be found in the Great Hall, eating breakfast, _waiting_ for him. Why was he always up so early? He was always the last one to bed, the first one up. Draco hardly ever saw him in their dorm room. Was he scared, nervous to be in the same room with all them Slytherin sixth years?_Why?_

Draco frowned, trying to recall their past few months together. _"…strike two…"_ Just how many times did Daniel and the Gryffindor Trio meet up in order for Daniel to give the second strike already? He seemed awfully close to the (_possibly_) Potter Gryffindork… too close, really.

How did his friendship with Daniel start anyways?

Draco thought back. The boy was a sixth year like him, so it made sense to greet him – show him he was the head of his year. Daniel grinned at him, introducing himself as a pureblood right away. _Liar._ Immediately, he looked over to the Gryffindor table. Draco followed the boy's line of vision and landed on "Potter". He couldn't help himself the make fun of Potter's flimsy disguise to the new boy.

Daniel, now that Draco thought about it, gave him a rather strange look before joining him in laughing. And suddenly, all it seemed like the other blond could talk about was how Evarson _must_ be Potter.

Draco didn't think too much of it then, but what was with Daniel's constant insistence of that fact? Whenever the word "Potter" was said, "Evarson" was not too far behind. It was almost like Daniel was… deflecting suspicion off himself?

But no; it couldn't be… could it? Why else would Daniel need to stress so badly that someone else was Potter? Why else but to make sure that no one suspected him.

Draco couldn't argue with the facts; with _all_ of the facts. They all pointed the same direction. Daniel Ester _was_ Harry Potter.

Draco couldn't deny that fact as much as he wanted to. Why did his friend – the best one he had in his life – have to have been Potter of all people? Draco couldn't stand it. He couldn't believe it. Surely _something_ could prove Daniel to be a loyal Slytherin?

**x-x**

Draco sat down beside Daniel at their Slytherin table. The other boy was already eating when he sat down.

"S'up?" Daniel said when he saw the other blond, hand in a mock salute.

Draco stared, wondering why he never noticed. His father, he knew, would've yelled at him for doing those actions. Those manners were not appropriate for someone of their status. Yet, Daniel did them daily with no care in the world.

"Good morning," Draco replied. He grabbed his food, trying to ignore the nagging fact sitting right in front of him. "You're up early again."

The other blond shrugged in response. "Yeah, can't sleep."

"Really? Ever since your first day at Hogwarts?"

Daniel's murky coloured eyes flickered towards Draco at his tone, before dropping back down at his food. They lapsed into silence. The flapping of wings interrupted their awkward pause.

Draco stared up, holding out his arm as a large brown owl swooped around him. The blond untied the letter it held, fear building as he saw his father's familiar cursive. The boy unrolled the letter, holding it close to read. His hands shook. _No…_

Daniel looked over curiously at his friend. "What's wrong?" He inched over to peek at the letter. Before he could make out any words, it was snatched back hurriedly. Draco stuffed it in his robe pocket. He couldn't let anyone see this. _Especially_ him.

"N-nothing." Draco stammered out. Draco looked around. His fellow Slytherins were either busy reading letters or eating food. "So…" Topic change, "What do you think about the Dark Lord?" _Informative_ topic change.

Daniel jolted back in shock, "What? Why do you ask?"

"We're Slytherins. Everyone knows we're going to join his noble cause."

Daniel's eyes flared in a minute anger and disgust before he got his emotions in check. But it was too late, for Draco already saw it. "You shouldn't-"

Draco stood up. "Never mind, I've got homework to do." He left, feeling Daniel's eyes on his back. He _had _to talk with Professor Snape.

* * *

Snape stirred his bubbling potion, glad for the free time he had since the Headmaster was away for the day. The tapping heard from behind him was greatly disturbing, but he efficiently ignored it from years of experience. Still, it continued, eventually drawing a tick from the man.

"What is it?" he roared, after dropping in the final ingredient and turning down the fire to let the cauldron simmer.

Behind him, his trusty black owl panted nervously, parchment held tightly between his claws.

"A letter?" Snape murmured to himself, "Who…"

The man froze. Wait, could it be?

He quickly snatched the missive from the owl. Breaking the seal, he stared at the letter, reading the words written in it.

_Dear Professor Snape_

_I am afraid at this moment, neither of us are in England. In fact, we are quite far from it. I hope you will forgive us for declining your generous offer, for neither of us are going to be able to make it to the HogsHead any time soon._

_My child was quite eager to apply to Hogwarts, and I do not believe there should be too much trouble for her in the future. However, should something arise, feel free the contact us once more, Professor. I would, however, recommend another owl, for this long distance trip seems to have tired out this little one._

_For any minor issues, school material-wise, I would suggest speaking to our home-tutor? I have confidence in Mr. Arnold Eson's teaching abilities, and have for the last sixteen years. He is quite the respectable teacher, so I believe my child will not have a hard time catching up._

_Thank you for informing us of such an important issue, and thank you for taking care of our child. Once again, I apologize for being unable to make it to HogsHead to discuss this face to face._

_Sincerely,__  
__John F. Ester_

The Professor reread the letter, confusion building up every second. He placed it on his desk, rubbing his temples. So they were actually real people? What would that mean for his theory, then?

Snape's eyes were continuously drawn to the third paragraph where it spelled out clear as ever that a Arnold Eson was the boy's home tutor, not that N.O.T . Laer that Daniel had 'hilariously' put down. Snape swore. Daniel seemed to be real, with real parents, despite his theory. He _wasn't _Potter… just a boy who had too much fun filling out his Hogwarts application form, curse the boy. This meant the things he'd told the Order, had told Dumbledore, were false. It wasn't Daniel they had to look after after all.

Suddenly, there was pounding on door. Snape cursed at yet another disturbance. It seemed that even with Albus away, he couldn't properly finish a potion. (and actually, at this moment, he honestly wished Dumbledore _wasn't_ away so he could inform the man in the new information he got.)

"Come in," he said.

The door creaked open and Draco's white-blond hair appeared. "Professor," he greeted, in a rather timid voice.

Snape studied the boy. Something was definitely bothering him and he needed his full attention for this. As if he didn't have his hands full already with the new revelation he'd gotten from the letter. "In a minute," he told his student, "Let me finish up on my potion first, Draco."

The boy nodded, watching Snape wander back toward his lab. Alone, Draco looked around, hoping to see something to pass the time. Professor Snape's office was boring, and lacked interior design of any sort. The Slytherin sighed out loud before the word "Ester" caught his eye. Did Snape suspect something about him too?

Sneaking a quick glance at Professor Snape's direction, the blond snatched the paper off the desk.

"Dear Professor Snape," Draco read, "I am afraid at this moment, neither of us -"

Footsteps echoed. "Oh damn." He muttered.

"Draco-" the boy quickly jammed the letter in his satchel, "Malfoy." Snape appeared, "What can I help you with?"

The sixteen year old could feel his heart beating against his chest. What if Snape noticed? He could already feel his face heating up from the embarrassment. "I-I'll come back later," He cried out. He ran out of the office, Snape staring confusedly after him.

* * *

"I told you already; I just remembered that I forgot something!" Draco insisted, walking down the hall with Daniel.

"Lies! You said you had homework."

"Yeah, well, I remembered that I forgot to do my homework!"

Daniel cornered his friend, hands on hips, "It's not even due today! Jeeze, what's wrong with you, Draco? You've been acting weird all day."

"It's nothing." He snapped back. "Don't accuse me of lying when-" He cut himself off with a hiss of anger. Draco threw his bag at the other blond, causing Daniel to stumble backwards freeing, him from his grips. "Just leave me alone!" Draco yelled, storming off.

**x-x-x**

Daniel sat by the Great Lake, a kidnapped Hassy sat beside him, shouting her head off at his idiocy. In his hand, he held the reason why he dared to be seen speaking with the Gryffindor. In his hand, he held a simple letter, found in the bag of another, addressed to one, Professor Snape.

"I can't believe you! You just had to insist on not writing down Mr. Eson's name as your teacher. And now Snape seemed to be on writing terms with the Esters of all people – obviously he's checked your application form. What excuse do you have for lying there?"

Daniel grimaced, "Well, I thought-"

"You thought no one would check that closely … obviously not! Why did I let you fill out your own form?"

Daniel rubbed his head, headache building up, "Okay, I was wrong; happy?"

"Happy?" Hassy roared, "Now Snape of all people suspects you. You have a completely fake home-tutor for no reason – or no reason until Snape comes up for a reason himself, and I doubt either of us will like what he comes up with!"

Daniel threw his hands up in the air in anger, "Why did you want me to do then, huh? What if Mr Eson told someone he only had one student of his coming to Hogwarts? If I also write down he's Daniel's home-tutor, then on papers there would be two students, and wouldn't that raise eyebrows?!"

The raven haired girl snorted, "Oh yeah, _now_ we're thinking in terms of if someone reads the forms. Sure, change your story whenever suits."

"Okay, fine, maybe I _was_ having a little bit of fun, but I never expected Snape to actually contact the parents."

Hassy glared her green eyes at him, "If Snape hasn't already, I bet he'll notice the whole 'her' thing in this letter too. If you wanted to get caught so badly, you shouldn't have come in the first place – you're just relying on luck, as guess what, it failed you! You know how dangerous it is to be here? You should've just gone and hid in the house until it was over. _I_ sure never wanted you here in the first place!"

"And leave you here all alone? _I'm_ having doubts that you can do anything by yourself. As if _you_ getting into danger is any better than _me_ getting into danger."

"It is if one of us dies in the process."

Daniel stared at her as he heard her last comment. "Look, I know what I signed up for just as much as you know what you signed up for."

"Argh!" The Gryffindor girl screamed, rubbing her face, "Whatever, I don't care anymore. You!" She pointed her finger straight at Daniel, "Stay away from Snape and stick close to trustworthy people, got it? I won't stand it if something happened to you."

The boy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Don't be such a worrywart. Nothing's going to happen to me." At her glare, he continued with a, "fine, if I ever feel a shiver run down my spine, I'll find Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or Remus, or someone. Happy?"

The frown on Hassy's face never left, "Yes. Well, not really, but it'll do." She paused. "Actually, let me take care of our plan for a while, while you stay hidden."

"What? No! If you're going to take care of it, you'll tire yourself out. I can take care of myself – just keep the plan the same."

"I"ll take over this week."

Daniel frowned, "No! I've got it!"

"Daniel." Hassy growled.

The boy only shook his head stubbornly. "Look, if you're so afraid, you can take over for today. But I won't accept anything more, okay?"

Hassy crossed her arms and sighed, but knew better than to argue with something she couldn't change. "Fine," she said, "Fine, but keep safe, alright?"

"Of course."

They continued on with less important squabble.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Draco had hid, watching and listening to their _whole_ conversation. After realising that the stolen letter was still in his bag, he chased after Daniel, hoping he hadn't seen it. Too late. The only consolation Draco had was that _he'd_ finished reading the letter before he lost it to Daniel. So, when Daniel started talking about the contents of the letter, Draco hadn't been too lost, but his brain had been frantically trying to make sense of the conversation still.

Their manner together spelt comfortable. Those two weren't strangers. Beneath all the anger, they were arguing how to keep the other safe. Those two were friends.

When the two of them reached the topic of the miswritten pronoun, it immediately dawned on Draco what was going on. Initially when he'd first read the letter, he'd assumed that perhaps Daniel's parents had made an error, no matter how ridiculous that error was. But now Draco understood; it _was _supposed to be 'her' instead of 'him' because they were Evarson's parents.

Evarson knew who Daniel was. They were working together. It was simple to see: Daniel was Potter, and Evarson was there to help, letting 'Daniel' use her parent as his own in case Snape checked (which Snape did). It was as simple as that.

And unknown to the three, Severus Snape had _almost_ been able to make it in time to watch the argument too, if only he was a moment earlier. Once the man realised that his missive was missing, he'd left immediately after the last person who'd been in his office – Draco Malfoy. He found the boy stalking after his friend who was talking to Miss Evarson. But before he had time to listen in, his arm burnt right at that moment.

* * *

Snape kneel in front of his Lord's throne along with the rest of the Death Eaters. They kissed the hem of his robe before standing respectfully in front of the snake-like man.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters." Lord Voldemort hissed out. "Today is a glorious day as we grow in size once more." With a dramatic wave of his hand, cloaked figures came forward lead by Lucius Malfoy.

One by one they removed their hoods revealing six Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and last but not least, Draco Malfoy. In their hands they held their letters demanding their presence, sent just that morning to them.

Snape swore under his breath, annoyed that he was ignorant to the fact that his sixth years would be called out today. Perhaps this was what Draco wanted to talk about today in his office?

"But before that, I heard a rather _amusing_ rumour about Potter."

The Slytherins tripped over themselves trying to please the Dark Lord.

"Hasvyne Evarson!"

"Pretending to be a girl!"

"Horrible disguise!"

Snape never expected his Lord to take so much interest in a mere rumour of Potter, but he had expressed his concern to Dumbledore about an innocent girl (who he wasn't sure was as innocent as he was led to believe) getting involved. Albus agreed with him, so Miss Evarson was carefully watched over for by the headmaster as well as the other teachers. He had nothing to worry about for her.

The Potions Master watched his Slytherins, suddenly realising that Draco was not shouting out along with his fellow students. Draco couldn't have also believed that Daniel Ester was Potter as well, could he?

Lord Voldemort noticed the silent Malfoy just as quickly as the Slytherin Head of House had. "You don't support that view?" the Lord asked, singling out the blond.

Draco shivered at his voice, "I-I" He looked up, red eyes stared down him, as if they were looking through his soul. The boy felt like he couldn't lie. "I don't."

"Oh? And just why do you think that?"

"B-because Potter's…"

"Yes?" The older man hissed out. But Draco couldn't do it. He couldn't name out his friend.

Voldemort's patience drew thin at that point. He stretched out his boney arm, grasping on to the blond's face, pulling his chin up. He forced the young Malfoy to look him in the eye. Behind, Snape could see the tell-tale signs of forceful _legilimency._

Moments later, Voldemort dropped a glassy eyed Draco on the floor, a horrendous smile stretching on his face. "Well, well, it seems you were all wrong." He seemed to purr, "Draco here realised what none of you managed to see. Daniel Ester." He murmured out loud.

Snape felt his fears grow. Daniel was in trouble – there were only teachers looking out for Hassy because of her appearance. They had minimum guards for Ester because the Order assumed no one else would realise that Potter could likely be the Slytherin blond, and also the less guards around him, the less suspicious Ester would look.

In front of Snape, crumpled on the floor, Draco felt sick. Draco's head hurt from the involuntary rush of memories, and the betrayal of a … friend. Was this how it was like to be a Death Eater?

Voldemort ignored the fallen boy in front of him, arms swept out dramatically. "The boy thinks he can hide from me? Well, we'll just have to show him how safe his little disguise in Hogwarts is. You can't fool the Dark Lord!" He tapped his fingers on the throne seat. "Tomorrow the boy will learn to fear me." He then proceeded to plan the kidnapping of Harry Potter, scheduled early that next morning. He knew just how early Potter rose every day from the young Malfoy's memories. No one would be around to witness it.

The potions professor felt dread building in his stomach. Snape needed to inform the Headmaster.

"Severus." The Potions Master snapped to attention at his Master's voice.

"Yes, my Lord." He had to force his voice from betraying his fears.

Lord Voldemort twirled his wand around his spiny fingers, a mock smile played on his lips. "Tell me, Severus, how could you miss telling me of this fact?"

Snape bowed as low as he could, "I did not know, my Lord."

"Oh, and a sixth year was able to find out?" he hissed, displeased.

"I-"

"_Crucio."_

"M-my Lord, I-"

"_Crucio_."

And the torture continued throughout that long, long night.

**x-x-x**

Snape stumbled home that night, limbs shaking, threatening to give in at every step. His Lord had not been lenient on him for not realising that Potter had been hiding in his house all along. Today was perhaps the worst day he'd ever had, _crucio_-ed more times than he could count.

The Potions Master tried to make his way up to the Headmaster's office before his muscles deemed that impossible, and his legs found its way down towards his own dungeons instead. He fell flat on his face the moment his office door slammed shut behind him. He needed to warn the Headmaster and get proper guards around Ester, but the old man probably wasn't back yet. Why was he always gone whenever he needed him?

Snape didn't think he could hold up any longer for his return. His sight was getting fuzzy, and he couldn't feel his limbs anymore. If he fell asleep he wouldn't be able to wake up until _much_ later next morning. Too late to get out a proper warning; too late to be any help to the boy.

There _was_ one man he could trust. Snape may've hated him, but he was the best person for the job. And sending him a _patronus_ was a lot more inconspicuous than sending one to Albus, wherever that old man was right now.

He twitched his wand, and a silvery doe appeared, looking expectantly at the fallen Snape. "Go," the man said, "Tell _Remus Lupin_ to guard-" Snape debated about saying either 'Ester' or 'Potter'. Even though Snape now realised Potter might not actually be Ester, the Order didn't know that; and Snape needed Lupin to react quickly and efficiently, and what else was there to motivate him than to use Potter's name? "Tell _Remus Lupin_ to guard Harry Potter with his life." Snape declared strongly, "Don't let him leave your sight tomorrow morning. The Dark Lord found him." And the doe sped off.

Snape was fast asleep not a moment later, assured that Daniel Ester would be safe.

He never knew that Remus Lupin had been under to impression that the Order thought Hasvyne Evarson was Harry Potter the whole time.


End file.
